FRED  M.  I>E WITT 

BOOKHKI.LKH 
«»0   FOfKTKli.NTH    ST. 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 


BY 


CHESTER  BAILEY  FERNALD 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  CAT  AND  THE  CHERUB" 
AND  OTHER  STORIES 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1903 


Copyright,  1897,  1898,  1899,  1901,  1902, 

1903,  by  THE  CENTURY  Co. 
Copyright,  1902,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


Published  October,  1903 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA 1 

THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE 25 

THE  YELLOW  BURGEE 39 

THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY 63 

A  HARD  EOAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S 89 

CLARENCE'S  MIND m  j07 

THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN 105 

HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS '  .  155 

CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL .191 

THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS .  213 

A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA .039 


496224 


-THE   LIGHTS   OF  SITKA 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 


THE   LIGHTS  OF  SITKA 


ER  name  was  the  gunboat  Lexington, 
with  sixes  in  the  fore  and  aft  of 
her,  and  a  row  of  invidjus  pop-guns 
arrayed  in  her  side.  7T  was  a  new 
cruise,  and  we  laid  several  days 
waiting  word,  with  the  newspapers 
stirring  up  wars  by  the  day.  First  we  was  bound  for 
China,  says  they,  to  pull  up  the  roots  of  the  emperor's 
pigtail  for  being  a  pagan ;  and  next  we  was  sailing 
for  Samoa,  to  boulyverse  the  nigger  on  its  throne ; 
and  the  same  day  they  had  us  running  down  forty 
knots  an  hour  to  Chile,  to  blow  off  the  peaks  off  the 
Andes,  and  conquer  the  country  with  a  file  of  blue 
bottle  marines.  And  any  of  us  that  was  right  in  his 
mind  give  it  no  thought,  the  sea  being  the  sea,  and 
wishes  crank  craft  in  a  gale;  but  there  was  two 
aboard  that  was  cross-eying  themselves  with  their 
noses  in  the  newspapers,  one  a  boVn's  mate  named 
Oliver  Peck,  which  no  one  would  trust  him  in  the 
shadow  of  a  candle,  and  the  other  a  pink  little  lad 
named  Ellerson,  that  was  new  to  his  drill,  and  home 
sick  as  the  divil  in  heaven.  'T  was  only  a  crazy  twist 

3 


..UNbER  THE  JACK-STAFF 


of  good  fortune,  says  they,  that  would  steam  us  to  a 
place  called  Corvana  ;  which  I  never  heard  of  it  be 
fore,  but  they  said  't  was  the  prettiest  port  south  of 
paradise.  It  was  circumstantial  that  them  two,  which 
distasted  each  other  like  oil  and  water,  should  wilt 
for  sake  of  the  small  spot  j  and  7t  was  me  luck  to  find 
why.  We  up  for  Puget  Sound;  for  the  mayor  of 
Corvana  was  having  a  party  in  his  back  grass-yard, 
to  celebrate  the  fifth  anniversary  of  the  town,  and  git 
himself  reflected,  and  the  Lexington  was  to  let  no 
foreign  power  interfere  with  the  Highland  fling. 

Then  little  Ellerson  turned  flipflops  clean  round  the 
capstan,  and  old  Peck  was  that  pleased  that  I  seen 
him  smile.  But  when  I  drew  me  first  bead  on  Cor 
vana  I  filled  it  with  hard  words,  for  't  was  three 
streets  and  a  moth-eaten  wharf  of  a  town,  that  looked 
like  7t  was  robbed  from  the  floor  of  the  sea.  But 
what  was  gnawing  old  Peck  and  young  Ellerson  was 
plain  :  7t  was  a  young  girl,  and  I  seen  her  countenance 
standing  on  the  pier. 

Faith  she  was  something  to  look  at—  that  sweet  and 
true  ye  could  find  it  in  her  face  ;  and  little,  and  trimmed 
in  black,  with  the  scrap  of  a  hanky  slung  in  her  belt, 
and  two  feet,  begad  !  like  kittens  peeping  from  under 
a  door-step.  Her  eyes  was  that  baby-blue  it  made  ye 
think  of  a  fine  day  at  home,  no  matter  where  ye  lived, 
and  her  mouth  that  inviting  ye  wished  there  was 
more  of  it.  And  every  time  ye  looked  at  her  ye 
looked  at  her  again.  And  when  ye  seen  the  beating 
of  her  heart  that  Ellerson  should  be  first  ashore,  ye 
asked  yourself,  What  would  she  be  to  that  rubber- 
faced  Oliver  Peck  ? 


THE  LIGHTS  OF   SITKA  5 

One  day  would  be  little  Ellerson's  liberty,  and  the 
next  would  be  Peck's,  each  steaming  up  the  same 
street,  and  never  back  till  the  tick  of  boat-time.  And 
with  Peck  ashore  little  Ellerson  would  be  blue  as  a 
sounding-lead,  and  with  Ellerson  ashore  Peck  would 
be  ugly  as  himself.  And  seeing  that  the  black 
hearted  bo's'n's  mate  had  it  in  for  the  lad,  I  laid 
alongside  of  little  Ellerson,  whence  many  a  pleasant 
cross-parlance  we  had.  Especially  would  he  take  his 
pipe  of  an  evening,  and  smoke  up  his  thoughts  about 
womenkind,  which  to  him  was  angels  from  heaven 
by  virtue  of  white  starch.  'T  was  painful  and  pretty 
to  hear,  for  every  woman  that  is  bad,  he  would  say, 
is  bad  because  of  some  evil  man  with  a  stovepipe  hat, 
he  would  say,  and  none  so  bad  but  the  spark  of  saints 
and  martyrs  is  lurking  inside.  And  I  talked  to  him 
awkward,  for  divil  an  answer  I  knew  when  I  thought 
of  me  female  reminiscences  in  ten  different  tongues. 
But  he  stuck  by  me  close,  and  would  take  comfort  in 
it,  and  Clarence  O'Shay  would  set  staring  at  his  re 
marks  like  a  wooden  owl.  Till  one  day  little  Ellerson 
says,  would  we  be  going  ashore  with  him  to  pay  his 
respects  to  a  fine-looking  lady?  And  we  polished 
ourselves  to  the  occasion. 

'T  was  a  little  house  the  big  of  a  horse-car,  and  the 
grandmother  sat  laid  up  in  a  wheel-chair,  with  posies 
climbing  all  over  the  porch.  Then  Ellerson  stood  the 
two  of  us  in  a  row,  and  says  he :' 

"  These  is  me  two  shipmates.  The  squat  one,  with 
the  two  little  bandy  legs,  and  the  look  like  a  mile 
stone,"  says  he,  "  is  Mr.  O'Shay ;  and  the  spider-legged 
one,  with,  his  hands  dangling  at  his  knees,  is  Mr. 


C  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Lannigan — Sudden  Lannigan,  they  call  him;  and 
together  the  two  invented  the  tricks  of  the  trade. 
Consider  yourself  knocked  down  to  'em,"  says  he. 

And  with  that  the  young  girl  hauled  off  with  a 
broken  tea-pot,  and  give  us  tea  from  it  with  no  apolo 
gies,  but  her  smiles  made  ye  feel  at  home  in  your 
shoes.  And  Clarence  O'Shay  would  be  all  the  time 
looking  at  her  with  his  mouth  hanging  open  like  a 
bag,  so  that  I  first  lacked  the  parts  of  speech  with  me 
embarrassment  at  him ;  but  the  girl  stood  by,  and 
would  talk  of  the  sea,  which  even  the  name  of  it 
scared  her. 

"  For  I  hear  once,"  says,  she,  "  that  the  sea  was  all 
sweet  as  tea,  but 't  was  made  salt  by  the  sailors'  wives 
a- weeping  on  the  shores  of  it." 

And  she  would  be  asking  many  inquiries,  saying, 
was  the  Lexington  free  from  sinking  qualities,  and 
when  was  the  next  war,  and  how  many  of  us  would 
be  killed  at  the  first  discharge  of  our  guns  ?  And  I 
says,  have  no  fear,  for  the  foreign  disagreements  of 
Uncle  Sam  was  all  in  his  own  living-space— which  I 
slapped  O'Shay  between  his  shoulder-pits  to  wake 
from  his  hypnotism.  "It  's  Heaven's  own  truth  — 
every  inch  of  it!"  says  he,  coming  to  himself.  And 
on  the  way  I  expostulated  to  him  the  meaning  of  it. 
And  when  was  we  going  there  again  ?  says  he ;  but  I 
told  him  the  little  girl  was  Ellerson's.  For  of  Peck 
she  spoke  never  a  word,  though  Oliver  himself  was 
forever  praising  the  charms  of  her. 

Then  come  the  cogitation  of  the  powers  what  next 
to  do  with  the  ship  j  and  the  Secretary-grandmother 
of  the  Navy  called  in  the  President  to  him,  and  the 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  7 

cabinet,  and  the  Supreme  Court,  and  they  all  sat 
screwing  their  eyebrows  on  it  for  ten  days,  till  the 
old  man  got  his  telegraph  from  Washington,  saying, 
"  Go  where  ye  please."  Whereby  the  skipper  says  to 
himself,  "  We  '11  take  a  cargo  of  time  to  Alaska,"  that 
being  the  paradise  free  from  statesmen. 

And  the  day  before  we  sailed  I  went  by  request  to 
the  little  girl.  Straight  up  in  the  wind  she  came, 
with  eyes  flying  red  signals,  though  she  tried  to 
smuggle  the  reason  of  it.  Mr.  Ellerson,  says  she, 
was  such  a  true  friend  of  the  family,  says  she,  and  so 
hard  to  part  with  him !  War  was  coming,  says  she, 
for  the  newspapers  said  it,  though  't  was  not  yet  de 
cided  who  we  should  fight.  And  would  n't  I  hold 
little  Ellerson  behind  me  door  to  protect  the  enemy 
from  hurting  him  ?  And  with  that  she  let  loose  with 
her  weeping  like  the  breaking  of  a  dike,  and  I  stood 
shifting  me  feet  and  fingering  me  cap,  and  saying 
I  'm  a  dom  fool,  till  I  laid  hold  of  the  parts  of  speech. 

"  I  '11  bring  him  to  ye !"  then  says  I,  shaking  me 
fist  at  her.  "  There  's  a  deal  more  ink  to  be  spilt  than 
blood,"  says  I;  "and  most  of  the  fighting  is  after 
dark,  by  them  big-head  reporter  men  with  glasses." 

u  I  knowed  ye  'd  do  it,"  says  she,  sopping  the  tears ; 
"  for  it  's  you  that 's  strong  and  brave  and  wise," 
says  she  j  "  and  you  would  n't  let  him  come  to  harm, 
would  ye  ? " 

And  I  says,  not  by  the  chin  of  St.  Patrick  would 
the  divil  himself  harm  a  hair  of  his  head.  And  I  got 
under  steerageway,  badly  choked  with  emotions. 

And  when  we  hove  up  and  begun  to  show  heels  to 
Corvana,  there  she  was,  standing  on  the  pier,  so 


8  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

blasted  fine !  Her  little  pocket  doily  was  swabbing 
of  her  eyes  one  by  one,  till  O'Shay  filled  his  pipe  with 
oakum  by  mistake  j  and  Oliver  Peck  was  waving  his 
fin  from  the  stern ;  but  her  dry  light  was  glued  to  the 
forward  six,  forninst  which  was  leaning  little  Ellerson, 
sometimes  smiling,  sometimes  snuffling  to  himself.  I 
looked  along  the  swash  of  us,  and  took  me  last  sight 
at  the  little  girl  waving  her  hanky  the  big  of  a  post 
age-stamp,  with  the  pink  setting  sun  shrinking  in  its 
size  behind  her,  and  I  gulped,  and  I  says  to  meself, 
"It  7s  Launigan  will  bring  him  home  safe  and  sound 
to  ye,  or  Lannigan  will  break  a  nerve !" 

We  lost  one  man  by  French  leave  at  Corvana,  which 
give  a  new  station-bill,  with  Ellerson  at  Peck's  com 
mand.  And  at  fire-drill  I  seen  Peck  working  him  up, 
dealing  him  all  the  vituperation  that  should  be  evenly 
distributed  among  the  boys.  And  that  night  I  wig 
gled  me  thumb  at  old  Peck,  and  says  I,  "Luff,  ye 
beggar,  or  I  '11  expostulate  to  ye  I" 

So  that  night  little  Ellerson  freed  himself  about 
her,  and  I  711  never  forget  the  velvet  of  his  voice  with 
the  little  girl's  name.  She  was  orphan  on  one  side, 
says  he,  and  on  the  other  her  father  was  lost  at  sea. 
Small  pence  they  had,  with  the  grandmother  laid  up 
in  ordinary  and  kept  afloat  by  the  apothecary;  and 
the  one  that  hauled  'em  out  of  the  mud  once  or  twice, 
and  would  take  the  girl  for  salvage,  was  Oliver  Peck 
himself— that  was  husband  to  her  aunt  that  died. 
"  But  for  me,"  the  snake  would  whisper  to  her,  "  ye  7d 
long  been  sent  to  the  divil  for  bread.  For  the  world 
is  that  hard,'7  he  would  say  in  the  ear  of  the  innocent 
lass,  "  that  no  man  will  lift  his  hand  for  ye  on  respec- 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  9 

table  terms— no  man  except  me,  that  will  give  ye  me 
name  and  a  decent  life/'  says  he.  And  she,  the  poor 
little  skiff,  was  drifting  to  it,  though  she  'd  rather 
charm  vipers  than  look  the  black  Satan  of  a  Peck  be 
tween  his  eyes.  And  she  grew  white,  and  promised 
to  marry  him,  when  along  come  little  Ellerson. 

From  the  sight  of  him,  the  pink  little  saint,  't  was 
all  over  with  Oliver.  First  she  put  in  for  a  stay  of 
proceedings,  and  then  she  rose  up  and  would  die  be 
fore  she  'd  be  spliced  to  him.  And  Peck  swore  to 
her,  and  says,  begad !  he  'd  fix  the  two  of  'em  for 
doing  him  out  of  his  own ;  and  little  Ellerson  offered 
to  fight  him  abaft  the  court-house;  but  says  Peck, 
"  You  're  a  boy."  Then  it  was  Ellerson  that  had  the 
right  of  line,  and  she  took  on  weight,  and  looked  like 
a  new-painted  posy,  when  of  a  sudden  Ellerson  had 
lost  his  billet  on  the  Puget  Sound  boat;  and  the 
marrying  must  be  postponed,  with  Peck  laying  off 
and  on,  and  mentioning  himself  again,  being  softy, 
and  saying 't  was  a  child's  fascination  she  had  for  the 
lad,  no  doubt;  that  must  now  enlist  for  want  of  a 
job.  And  Peck  made  the  young  greenhorn  take 
money  for  reaching  Mare  Island  to  present  himself, 
which  divil  knows  how,  but  he  paid  it  back  from  his 
first  two  months,  though  the  obligation  left  him  un 
comfortable  close  with  one  that  hated  him. 

And  when  the  Lexington  dropped  into  Corvana  it 
was  several  months  gone  by.  The  little  girl  met  him 
with  the  eyes  of  long  nights  awake,  and  says  she, 
"I  '11  not  be  promised  to  ye  no  longer,  for  I  '11  not 
load  ye  with  one  that  has  nothing,  and  could  only  be 
a  weight  to  your  spirits,"  says  she,  "  and  maybe  would 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 


make  a  poor  wife  anyway."    And  first  little  Ellerson 
kissed  her,  and  then  mildly  he  cussed  her,  and  then 
he  kissed  her  again  j  but  not  an  inch  would  she  be 
budging,  saying  only  that  Peck  she  would  not  marry, 
and  saying  no  more.     But  when  the  last  parting  come, 
she  up  and  kissed  him  smack  on  his  forehead,  and 
give  him  a  push  in  the  chest,  and  run  in  and  slammed 
the  door  in  his  face  •  and  by  this  he  took  main  reli 
ance  in  favor  of  her  loving  him,  though  he  was  doubt 
ful  if  whether  she  would  n't  have  kissed  him  in  his 
mouth  if  so,  and  would  wonder  if  maybe  she  had  n't 
aimed  at  his  mouth  anyway,  but  missed  it  by  firing 
too  soon  at  the  wrong  elevation.     Then,  in  a  while, 
the  lad  was  afraid  the  girl  might  tire  of  life  and  so 
marry  old  Peck,  and  his  mouth  hauled  down  with 
every  turn  of  the  screw.     For  he  says  how  Peck  had 
beseeched  her  every  day  at  Corvana,  and  how  now, 
when  she  followed  the  ship  to  Seattle  by  rail,  old  Peck 
would  easy  git  ashore  for  his  being  petty  officer's  mate, 
though  for  Ellerson  't  would  be  hard,  since  the  ship 
would  only  lay  to  for  twenty-four  hours—  the  time  it 
takes  a  navy  officer  to  telegraph  his  last  ten  words  to 
the  Department.     But  I  says  to  him,  "  Ye  '11  go  ashore 
by  accident  "  ;  for  I  knowed  old  Peck  would  be  pre 
varicating  himself  to  freedom,  which  he  did. 

'T  was  a  smoke-fog  night  on  the  Sound,  and  the  sun 
went  below  looking  the  color  of  an  amber  mouth 
piece,  and  then  come  dry  blackness  without  a  drop 
of  dew  on  a  hand-rail  ;  and  if  ye  put  your  hand  out 
ten  feet  before  ye  't  was  invisible.  From  a  boatman 
I  chartered  a  bit  of  a  soap-box,  and  at  the  right  time 
I  sent  little  Ellerson  by  the  board,  with  instructions 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  11 

to  keep  his  head  inside  of  his  box  till  it  floated  from 
sight.  And  he  went.  I  can  hear  him  this  minute, 
with  his  eager  young  smile  looking  in  me  ear.  "  God 
bless  ye,  old  man !"  says  he ;  "  't  was  Heaven  sent  ye 
to  be  me  friend."  And  with  that  he  dropped  away 
soft  in  the  tide,  swimming  with  his  head  in  the  box, 
like  the  man  in  front  of  the  stage  at  the  opera.  He 
went  off  diagonizing  toward  the  shore,  and  I  knowed 
in  an  hour  the  little  girl  would  be  weeping  on  his  collar. 
And  scarce  had  the  fog  swallowed  him  when  off 
come  the  launch,  with  old  Peck  smiling  satisfied  to 
himself,  and  he  walked  about  for'ard,  wishing  Eller- 
son  would  see  him  in  his  content ;  and  he  would  be 
all  the  time  singing  to  himself  a  heaving  lay,  which 
the  sound  of  it  is  photographed  on  me  mind  as  though 
with  a  chisel : 

He  had  a  wife  at  Callao, 

At  Rio  dee  Janeerio, 

At  Rotterdam  and  Tokio, 

At  Cairo,  Cannes,  and  Malta. 

A  wife  he  had  at  Killisnoo, 

At  Singapore  and  Sebeeroo, 

At  Mozambique  and  Timbuctoo, 

At  Boston  and  Gibraltar. 

A  single-hearted  man  was  lie; 
You  need  not  speak  of  bigaim'e; 
Because  his  wife  was  Rosylie, 
And  she  sailed  with  him  on  the  sea. 

And  at  eight  bells  he  went  on  duty  aft,  and  I  stowed 
meself  in  the  dark  near  him,  at  risk  of  reprimand  for 
being  there  off  watch.  "  Where  's  Ellerson?"  says 
Peck.  "  Gone  ashore  in  imitation  of  a  cake  of  soap," 


12  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

says  I  j  "  and  the  one  that  peaches  on  him  will  settle 
with  me  and  with  the  ancestors  that  's  left  behind 
me!"  Then  old  Peck  dropped  his  humming,  and 
gripped  the  chain-rail  till  it  creaked,  and  I  heard  the 
profanation  escaping  from  him  like  the  after-gas  from 
a  rifle ;  and  in  a  minute  says  he,  "  Ye  '11  be  sorry  some 
day  for  putting  your  nose  in  places  that  don't  fit  it." 
And  says  I,  "  1 11  operate  me  own  nose."  And  he  said 
no  more,  though  we  waited  four  hours  in  the  dark ; 
but  the  black  snake  was  conniving  in  his  heart. 

'T  was  near  midnight  when  I  heard  little  Ellerson's 
whistle  floating  on  the  tide,  and  the  navigator  that 
was  officer  of  the  deck  that  night  was  getting  ready 
to  be  relieved,  and  would  be  going  to  fondle  his  charts, 
being  a  crank  fresh  from  the  Hydrygravic  Office.  I 
leaned  over  and  give  a  sneeze,  which  was  the  counter 
sign  between  me  and  Ellerson ;  but  then  Oliver  Peck 
worked  his  trick  on  me.  "  There  's  an  incandescent 
lamp  died  last  night,  in  the  chart-house,  sir,"  says  he  j 
"  and  the  man  with  the  store-room  key  is  in  his  ham- 
mick,  sir."  And  the  navigator  says,  "  Then  send  one 
to  wake  him  up  and  git  a  new  lamp,"  which  Peck 
turned  to  me,  as  being  his  support  there  by  rights,  and 
says,  "  Git  the  lamp,"  and  I  hurried  to  do  it,  having 
no  choice,  for  Peck  had  the  call  on  me.  But  I  would 
not  rob  the  sleep  of  the  carpenter's  mate,  robbing 
instead  the  nearest  lamp-cage  between  decks  j  and  I 
says  to  meself,  "  Ye  misunderstood  the  order,  and  ye 
thought 't  was  for  the  captain's  smoking-room."  And 
so  with  the  lamp  I  made  a  dive  for  that  place,  which 
was  a  bit  of  a  coop  in  her  stern-frames,  and  by  mid 
night  the  quietest  place  aboard.  The  ports  was  too 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITE  A  13 

small  for  me  head.  But  I  heard  the  loud  whisper  of 
little  Ellerson,  that  thought  it  was  me,  though  't  was 
Peck,  leaning  over  above. 

"Hurrah!"  says  the  lad;  "she's  mine!"  says  he. 
"  We  '11  be  spliced  next  year,  and  take  the  chances  of 
life  together.  And  it 's  you,  old  man,  that 's  to  blame 
for  me  good  luck!" 

And  then  says  Peck,  with  a  voice  like  a  stone,  "  I 
did  n't  know  it.  Maybe  ye  think  I  'm  Sudd  Lanni- 
gan !"  and  the  lad  in  the  water  give  an  "  Oh !"  with 
confusion  that  ye  could  hear  it  in  the  dark.  "  Bring 
along  the  box  as  ye  come,"  says  Peck,  growling ;  "  I  'd 
be  going  ashore  that  way  meself.  Take  a  stiff  hand 
on  it,  now !"  says  he,  throwing  him  the  halyard  end. 
And  I  heard  him  hard  hauling  it  in  over  the  scupper, 
and  his  grunting,  and  the  dripping  of  the  soap-box  in 
the  dark,  and  I  says  to  meself,  little  Ellerson  was  being 
hoisted  aboard,  box  and  all.  And  then  I  thought  of 
meself,  and  made  out  from  the  smoking-room  in  me 
stocking-feet ;  and  as  I  went  I  seen  Ellerson's  leg  swing 
by  the  port,  with  the  box  tied  to  his  toe,  and  the  next 
second  I  heard  a  splash  in  the  water,  as  of  the  box, 
and  I  says  to  meself,  little  Ellerson  had  fooled  him, 
and  glad  I  was. 

I  put  me  lamp  in  its  place  in  the  chart-house  in  the 
nick  of  time,  and  I  went  for'ard,  looking  for  Ellerson. 
But  his  hammick  was  yet  in  its  place  in  the  berthing, 
and  I  seen  no  signs  of  him,  and  I  hunted  the  living- 
space  through,  and  the  platforms,  and  every  place  that 
would  hold  him.  Then  I  tumbled  up  again,  and  made 
me  way,  at  the  risk  of  reprimand,  back  to  the  poop. 
"Where  is  he?"  says  I  to  Peck,  that  was  standing 


14  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

handhold  to  the  rail.  "  Where  is  who?"  says  Peck, 
giving  a  jump  because  I  come  upon  him  barefoot,  and 
looking  ready  to  deal  me  one.  "  The  lad,  of  course," 
says  I.  "How  do  I  know  where  he  is?"  says  Peck, 
in  a  way  that  was  new  to  him.  "Am  I  detailed  to 
nestle  him  ?"  says  he,  jerking  it  out ;  and  I  stood  look 
ing  at  him,  steaming  with  the  lust  of  smashing  his 
head.  "  The  boy  just  passed  forward,"  then  says  Peck, 
looking  at  the  deck ;  "  and  he  talked  of  getting  his 
coin  and  slipping  his  cable.  I  suppose  he  's  swum 
ashore  by  this.  Now  leave  me  alone,  man/7  says  Peck  j 
"  for  I  >m  off  me  feed  this  night  I" 

And  I  trotted  back  and  searched  for  the  boy  once 
more  in  every  place  a  man  could  fit,  living  or  dead  j  and 
a  whirling  set  up  in  me  head,  for  there  was  divil  a  sign 
of  him,  and  his  coin  still  in  the  toe  of  his  boot  in  his 
bag.  Then  I  set  down  to  reason,  being  frightened  at 
the  conundrum  of  it,  and  me  eyes  sticking  out  of  me 
head.  "  Bad— bad  it  smells !"  says  I  to  meself ;  "  for 
ye  heard  his  whistle,  and  ye  seen  his  head  floating  back 
invisible,  and  then  ye  heard  his  voice,  and  seen  his 
foot  with  it  tied  to  the  box  j  then  ye  heard  a  splash ! 
Ah,  ye  blithering  fool !"  I  yelled  to  meself,  in  a  whis 
per  ;  "  if  he  come  aboard  at  all  he  was  wet  to  his  skin 
with  water,  and  tracks  of  him  is  plain  on  the  deck ! 
And  if  not,  then  what  was  the  splash  ? "  Then  I  rose 
in  the  air,  and  charged  with  all  me  feet  for  the  poop 
of  her,  no  matter  what  officer  stood  in  me  way,  but 
only  praying  me  legs  to  git  there,  with  me  breath 
playing  tricks  and  me  heart  between  me  teeth ;  but 
the  deck  stuck  to  me  soles  like  fly-paper.  "Ye  '11 
never  git  there  at  all !"  says  I  to  meself,  with  groans, 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  15 

and  I  let  out  me  full  contents  of  imprecation.  And 
as  I  come  thundering  over  the  ladder  to  the  poop  I 
seen  a  vision  in  the  middle  of  the  dark  astern  of  her, 
I  seen  a  dear  little  lass  trimmed  all  in  black,  with  a 
little  white  hanky  flying  from  her  fingers;  and  she 
stood  on  the  pier,  and  grew  smaller  and  smaller  till 
she  was  ten  thousand  miles  away ;  and  I  heard  her 
voice  saying  in  me  ear  acrost  the  water,  "  It 's  you 
that 's  strong  and  brave  and  wise,  and  you  would  n't 
let  him  come  to  harm,  ivould  ye  ? "  Me  insides  give 
way.  I  dropped  on  me  knees  by  the  flag-staff,  feeling 
and  feeling  for  just  one  drop  of  water.  And  I  let  out 
a  yell.  The  planks  was  dry  as  a  stone.  "I  'm  a  dom 
fool !"  says  I ;  "  a  dom— dom  fool !"  I  howled,  breaking 
with  tears,  and  slamming  me  head  on  the  deck.  Then 
two  blue-breeches  came  running,  and  hauled  me  away 
to  the  prison  abaft  the  sick-bay.  And  me  next  dis 
tinct  recollection  I  never  knowed. 

WHEN  I  come  to  meself  I  was  sitting  on  the  capstan, 
and  the  ship  lagging  along  between  terra  firma  and 
Vancouver's  Island.  And  Clarence  O'Shay  says  to 
me,  "  I  'm  detailed  to  watch  that  ye  do  no  harm  to  the 
bo's'n's  mate.  For  some  says  ye  've  been  bit  by  a 
water-dog  and  have  hydrophobia ;  and  some  says  ye  Ve 
gone  crazy,  and  your  intelligence  loose  and  dangling 
inside  of  ye.  And  now,"  says  he,  "  if  you  're  crazy, 
out  with  it  and  say  so— between  friends,"  says  he  j 
"  and  if  not  I  '11  smoke  me  pipe." 

I  seen  a  ring  around  the  paymaster's  clerk  auction 
eering  off  the  kit  of  a  blue-jacket.  "'T  is  another 
deserter,"  says  O'Shay:  "little  Ellerson,  that  Peck 


1C  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

says  jumped  off  the  bill-boards  last  night."  And  I 
seen  little  Ellerson's  white  uniform  hanging  up,  with 
"  D.  D.  E."  on  it  in  stencil.  "  'T  is  '  D.  D.'  he  is  now  !" 
says  I  to  meself ,  and  I  gulped  and  went  below  j  and  I 
sent  O'Shay  to  buy  what  was  left,  which  it  cost  me 
double  for  O'Shay's  bidding  so  stubborn  ag'in'  himself. 
In  a  week,  by  easy  stops,  the  ship  set  down  for  a 
stay  at  Sitka,  in  a  fine  berth  abreast  the  Ranch.  Never 
a  word  did  I  say  to  old  Peck  all  that  time,  for  he  kept 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  to  himself,  and  I  seen  his  face 
change  like  a  tree  in  the  fall ;  for  he  loaded  up  with 
Victoria  smuggle  at  Killisnoo,  and  was  half  seas  over 
the  rest  of  the  time,  yet  taking  but  small  content  in 
his  liquor.  And  him,  that  was  celebrated  for  keeping 
his  own  company,  would  now  be  asking  to  go  along 
with  the  boys,  spearing  salmon  with  'em,  and  fishing 
for  Siwash  girls  in  the  Ranch  •  and  it  looked  that  he 
was  afraid  to  be  alone  with  himself,  as  though  he  was 
scared  he  would  say  something  to  himself  if  he  got 
the  chance.  One  day  I  come  acrost  him  behind  his 
back  in  the  copper-green  Grecian  church,  bowing  his 
head  before  the  blessed  Virgin,  and  he  give  a  start  as 
though  stabbed,  and  coughed  himself  red  for  his  fool 
ishness  ;  till  by  and  by  he  took  with  a  Siwash  girl,  and 
would  be  spending  his  time  and  wages  on  her,  to  the 
comment  of  the  place.  'T  was  by  this  he  twice  over 
stayed  his  liberty,  and  was  deprived  for  it,  and  went 
profaning  to  himself,  with  me  eyes  fastened  on  him 
trying  to  see  him  through.  And  not  one  of  them  days 
but  I  asked  meself,  could  it  be  any  way  that  little  El- 
lerson  had  slipped  the  ship  without  coming  aboard, 
and  could  he  be  still  living  ?  And  not  a  night  but  I 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  17 

seen  in  me  dreams  the  little  girl  standing  on  the  pier, 
and  asking  me  the  same  question— with  me  snuffling 
in  me  sleep  till  they  says,  "  Sudd  Lannigan  is  plumb 
in  the  day,  but  crazy  by  midnight."  And  I  says  to 
meself ,  Would  one  man  murder  another  and  live  along 
and  along,  and  never  pay  for  it,  by  virtue  of  no  one 
to  prove  it,  with  little  Ellerson's  body  floating  boot 
up  to  a  soap-box,  and  so  never  observed?  And  me 
memory  was  gnawing  me  vitals,  and  the  diviFs  own 
downheartedness  stewing  in  me  mind. 

'T  was  the  third  time  old  Peck  overstayed,  and  was 
deprived  for  it  two  days  when  he  ached  hard  to  meet 
his  Siwash,  that  I  seen  a  red  petticoat  waving  in  the 
afternoon  from  the  little  island  next  Japonski.  And 
I  seen  a  note  carried  ashore  for  him,  and  I  says,  some 
thing  7s  up.  Then  me  fate  took  me  in  its  two  hands 
and  held  me  aboard,  though  I  had  full  leave  to  go 
where  I  pleased ;  and  I  stowed  meself  barefoot  in  the 
curl  of  the  anchor,  pretending  to  smoke  to  meself. 
The  moon  was  darting  zigzag  among  the  clouds,  with 
Oliver  Peck  eying  it  with  hard  looks  from  near  by.  I 
peeped  over  the  side,  and  seen  a  canoe  dropping  down 
in  the  tide,  held  by  a  long  line  from  another  behind  it. 
Then  Peck  laid  down  by  the  edge,  and  in  a  minute  the 
dugout  fouled  the  anchor-chain,  and  he  rolled  over 
the  side  and  went  down  the  chain.  And  when  he 
turned  round  he  seen  another  man  with  him,  arid  it 
was  me  j  and  never  a  word  had  I  spoke  to  him  up  to 
this  since  we  left  Seattle. 

First  he  looked  hard  in  the  dark  to  make  me  out, 
and  I  grabbed  the  paddle  and  helped  the  tide,  with 
him  groping  in  the  bottom  for  another,  which  there 


18  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

was  none.  And  with  one  hand  I  hauled  in  the  long 
line  and  fastened  the  end  of  it  to  the  anchor- stone. 
The  moon  give  a  peep  out,  and  says  he  suddenly, 
"  'T  is  you,  Sudd  Lannigan  !"  And  says  I,  "  ?T  is  you, 
Oliver  Peck !" 

"Where  do  we  be  going  at?"  says  he. 

"  Divil  I  know,"  says  I. 

"  It  ain't  your  hand,  then,"  says  he,  "  that 's  han 
dling  that  paddle  ? " 

"  No,"  says  I ;  "  't  is  the  hand  of  God." 

And  says  he,  "What  may  that  mean?" 

"  Divil  I  know,"  says  I,  paddling  fast.  I  knowed 
he  was  staring  at  me  in  the  dark,  conniving  as  cool  as 
his  thoughts  would  let  him. 

"'T  is  a  fine  boat  behind  ye,"  says  he,  pointing  to 
the  excursion  steamer  from  Puget  Sound  that  lay  at 
the  pier.  There  was  lights  and  music  and  dancing 
aboard  of  her,  and  a  handsome  sight  she  was  ;  and  I 
never  turned  me  head. 

"  'T  is  strange  you  're  not  aboard,  dancing  with  the 
swells,"  says  he,  in  a  minute,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Not  so/'  says  I ;  "  for  I  loaned  me  claw-hammer  to 
the  Prince  of  Monte  Carlo,  and  he  never  give  it  back." 

"  Ha,  ha !"  says  Peck,  laughing  as  though  he  was 
paid  for  it;  "ye  've  a  fine  stowage  of  wit,  Lannigan, 
and  it 's  an  accomplished  man  ye  are !" 

"True,"  says  I,  "for  I  can  play  l Yankee  Doodle' 
with  one  hand,  and  listen  to  *  God  Save  the  Queen ' 
with  me  other  ear." 

Then  he  held  his  mouth,  and  I  kept  paddling,  say 
ing  never  a  word,  but  watching  him  take  points  on 
the  island  toward  where  we  was  headed,  doubtful  in 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  19 

the  dark  as  to  which  one  it  was.  And  in  ten  minutes 
we  breasted  a  jut  of  rock  and  pines,  and  heard  a  female 
voice  hail  us  with  "  Klalioiv  yah ! "  And  says  Peck : 

"  7T  is  right  in  here  1 11  be  going  ashore,  thank  ye." 

But  I  looked  at  him,  and  paddled  steady,  with  never 
a  word. 

"  Right  in  here,  man !"  says  he,  loud  enough,  and 
the  wish  to  deal  me  one  breaking  in  his  voice. 

But  I  kept  her  headed  where  she  was,  and  the  tide 
took  us  rushing  by  the  point,  and  Oliver  let  out  a 
swear. 

"Look  here,  Lannigan,"  says  he;  "I  'm  a  mild- 
mannered  man— 1 7m  a  good-natured  man ;  but  there  's 
an  end  to  trifling;  and  I  '11  be  going  ashore  on  that 
island,  and  that  's  all  of  it— see?"  says  he,  with  a 
strain  of  his  voice. 

But  never  a  word  I  said.  And  his  hand  dropped 
on  the  gun'le,  and  he  took  again  to  conniving.  The 
tide  was  galloping  with  the  wind  in  its  rear,  and  the 
dugout  humming  betwixt  one  island  and  another  till 
the  lights  of  Sitka  disappeared,  and  by  a  few  easy 
twists  of  her  prow  I  lost  him  his  bearings.  The  cedars 
grew  black  down  to  the  sea,  with  their  feet  on  the 
rocks  that  swashed  with  the  breakers,  and  dense  they 
was,  like  a  wall  that  shut  ye  away  from  time.  Peck 
leaned  over  and  scanned  the  shore,  where  the  water 
was  a  hundred  feet  sheer,  and  by  moonlight  I  seen 
the  sweat  on  his  face  and  the  look  as  of  one  counting 
his  chances. 

"  7T  is  this  island,"  says  I,  "  where  a  man  starved  to 
death,  near  in  plain  sight  of  Sitka." 

And  he  thought  a  minute,  and  says  he :  "  And  't  is 


20  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

here,  I  believe,  that  one  man  knocked  the  other  from 
the  dugout,  and  drownded  him,  and  then  went  where 
he  dom'd  pleased." 

"  Indeed?77  says  I,  paddling  past  it.  "And  which 
of  the  two  was  it  ? " 

Which  Peck  made  no  reply  5  but  I  seen  the  inside 
of  him  as  though  he  was  glass,  with  the  hate  and  the 
divil-craft  surging  in  his  heart  like  the  bilge  in  a  pump. 
I  rounded  a  point,  and  turned  up  an  arm  of  the  sea, 
with  the  water  laying  dim  for  two  miles  beyond  us, 
and  the  high  mountains  towering  on  top  of  us,  like 
ye  might  have  been  ten  thousand  miles  from  the  his 
tory  of  man.  'T  was  that  still  ye  could  hear  the  lap 
ping  of  the  water  on  the  shore,  though  the  wind  was 
stopped  by  the  point,  and  the  place  laid  as  smooth  as 
a  table.  And  when  a  loon  flew  over  us,  and  give  a 
shout  with  his  fright,  ye  could  hear  the  shout  bounce 
back  from  the  heart  of  the  trees  like  the  laughter  of 
fifty  jimpawzees,  till  Oliver  Peck  coughed  to  cheer 
himself  with  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  then  was 
scared  by  its  echo.  And  I  steered  up  in  the  darkness 
twenty  feet  from  the  shore  of  the  wilderness,  till  the 
trees  shut  out  the  moon  and  most  of  the  sky. 

"  Ha,  ha !"  says  Peck,  of  a  sudden ;  "  it 's  a  fine  ex 
cursion  we  're  having !  And  so  let  it  go  at  that,  and 
no  malice  between  us,  for  I  never  felt  that  gay  as  this 
minute  !  I  could  kill  and  eat  two  species  of  the  human 
race !  Show  me  a  man  that  7s  looking  for  trouble, 
will  ye,  Lannigan  ? " 

And  in  the  middle  of  it  come  a  long  howl  of  a  she- 
bear  that  had  lost  her  cub— a  howl  like  the  last  despair. 

"What 's  that?"  says  he,  gripping  the  gunle. 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  21 

"Hark!"  says  I,  dropping  the  paddle;  "'tis  the 
voice  of  a  hand  that  's  laid  hold  of  the  bottom  of  us  ! 
Hark!"  says  I.  And  I  leaned  over  the  stern  and 
dropped  the  anchor-stone  without  his  knowing  it,  and 
the  she-bear  let  out  another  howl,  like  't  was  in  the 
air  forninst  us. 

"  Paddle,  man— paddle  !"  says  Peck,  with  his  tongue 
sticking  to  his  lips.  "  This  is  no  place—" 

"  Hark !"  says  I  j  "'t  is  a  voice  walking  on  the  bot 
tom  !  Listen,  listen !  'T  is  little  Ellerson.  <  Eller- 
son,  Ellerson,  Ellerson  P  it  says.  And  then,  l  Peck, 
Peck,  Oliver  Peck  !'  What  does  it  mean  f "  says  I. 

"What  's  that  to  me?"  says  Peck,  like  a  cur  in  a 
corner.  "  What  's  it  to  me  ?  I  've  no  relations  with 
him.  He  run  off  at  Seattle  j  he  took  off  to  be  deceiv 
ing  the  woman  that  promised  to  marry  me.  What 
are  ye  looking  at  me  for?  You  're  crazy !" 

And  he  seized  the  paddle  and  worked  it  like  wild, 
sending  the  spray  all  over  us.  But  we  stayed  stuck 
and  fast,  for  we  was  anchored.  And  the  howling  of 
the  she-bear—long,  squealing,  and  divilish  it  was,  like 
the  ghost  of  a  sick  locomotive  lost  in  the  hills— the 
howling  of  it  made  him  bend  to  it,  to  the  broiling  of 
his  wits. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? "  says  he,  with  the  beads 
on  his  brow. 

"  'T  is  Ellerson,"  says  I.  "  'T  is  Ellerson  saying  he 
wants  you.  He  says  he  wants  the  man  that  stove  his 
head  in  and  dropped  him  overboard  to  drown.  What 
does  it  mean,  man  ? "  says  I.  "  Who  stove  his  head 
in?  Was  it  you,  ye  white-livered  snake?"  says  I, 
crawling  at  him.  And  I  seen  in  the  dark  his  hands 


22  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

go  over  his  head,  stripping  the  lanyard  of  his  jack- 
knife.  "  Was  it  you  that  robbed  him  from  the  little 
girl  standing  on  the  pier?"  says  I.  "He  's  down  at 
the  bottom,"  says  I,  darting  me  thumb  at  the  side ; 
"  and  he  says  't  was  you  that  took  his  life  !" 

"  Go  tell  him 't  is  true,  then  !"  says  Peck,  with  a  yell 
like  a  savage.  "  That  for  ye  !"  says  he. 

And  he  made  a  swing  at  me  with  the  paddle,  which 
it  broke  to  splinters  on  me  arm ;  and  I  give  a  duck, 
and  the  canoe  overturned,  and  we  dropped  in  the  ice- 
water,  hugging  like  brothers,  with  the  sea  absorbing 
the  profanity  of  it,  and  then  the  top  of  the  water  rising 
above  us  in  bubbles,  and  divil  a  sound.  For  we  was 
forty  feet  below,  with  the  sandy  bottom  roiling  under 
our  toes,  while  we  carved  with  knives.  And  the  busi 
ness  me  and  Peck  had  together  was  transacted  then 
and  there,  for  I  rose  up  flabbergasting  round  the  water 
a  bit,  and  then  laid  hold  of  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
with  the  moon  looking  on  it  as  peaceful  as  a  garden, 
when  I  heard  a  small  sound,  and  I  looked  down  in  the 
water,  and  I  seen  something  bubbling  up  from  below. 

7T  was  his  soul.  And  the  moon  went  behind  its 
clouds,  and  I  set  and  thought. 

DIVIL  a  word  I  said  to  meself  till  I  seen  the  lights  of 
Sitka.  The  dugout  I  righted;  but  the  paddle  had 
gone  by  the  board,  and  't  was  two  hours  of  swimming 
with  it  ahead  of  me,  in  a  dead  calm,  before  the  tide 
took  a  hand  and  let  me  steer  with  me  feet,  with  the 
prow  of  the  boat  stuck  high  in  the  air.  I  seen  the 
lights  of  Sitka  reflected  in  the  still  water  for  four 
miles,— all  the  lights  from  the  houses  and  the  swell 


THE  LIGHTS  OF  SITKA  23 

steamer,  and  the  beacon  on  Baranoff  Castle,  and  the 
light  from  the  Mission  of  Christ,— and  every  one  of 
them  was  pointing  straight  at  me. 

"Ye  killed  a  man!"  says  they.  "Look  at  ye— ye 
killed  a  man !" 

"Aye,"  says  I,  "and  small  consolation.  For  it 
won't  bring  him  back  to  her,"  says  I.  "  She  7s  stand 
ing  on  the  pier  there,  trimmed  all  in  black,  with  a 
little  white  hanky  slung  in  her  belt.  And  she  's 
waving  her  hand  to  me;  and  I  hear  her  speaking 
acrost  the  waters  with  a  voice  that  breaks  in  two  at 
each  word,  and, 1 1  'm  waiting,  1 'm  waiting !'  she  says ; 
'  for  it 's  you  that  's  strong  and  brave  and  wise,  and 
you  would  n't  let  him  come  to  harm,  would  ye  ? ' " 

"  And  ye  killed  a  man !"  says  the  lights  of  Sitka. 

"  Yes,  and  I  did,"  says  I ;  "  but  it  won't  bring  back 
little  Ellerson,  and  she  '11  never  see  him  again  till  the 
coming  of  Judgment  Day,  and  the  Squaring  of  the 
Log." 

CLARENCE  O'SHAY  was  sitting  for'ard,  his  feet  em 
bracing  the  jack-staff,  and  his  pipe  smoking  in  his 
teeth. 

"  Hair  and  hide  of  ye  is  wet  to  the  skin,"  says  he, 
as  I  laid  me  hand  on  her  bow,  with  the  moon  white- 
shining  as  innocent  as  a  maid.  "  And  your  bugle  's 
broke,  and  a  bloody  stab  on  the  shoulder,  and  your 
pants  one  leg  flapping  in  the  wind.  What 's  the  an 
swer  to  it?" 

"  One  of  me  legs  mutinied,"  says  I,  "  and  I  brung 
it  aboard  by  force.  And  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  me 
soul !" 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE   PIPE 


THE   SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE1 

was  under  the  jack-staff  he  said 
these  things,  where  the  chain-rails 
meet  and  the  stem  sinks  forward 
into  the  sea.  The  other  men  were 
sprawling  barefoot  on  the  deck,  ut 
tering  fumes  of  navy  plug  to  the  Car 
ibbean  air.  The  lights  at  the  signal-top  hove  slowly 
up  and  down  against  the  stars. 

CAPTAIN  SILAS  FARRAGUT  TARRANT,  U.  S.  N.,  owned 
a  farm  whereon  was  a  barn  wherein  was  a  horse  over 
which  was  a  room  where  slept  a  little  red  Irishman— 
Clarence  O'Shay— who  loved .  both  the  pipe  and  the 
jug.  Which  I  say  no  word  ag'in'  him,  but  one  night 
the  rum  rose  up  in  O'Shay  and  the  coals  dropped  out 
of  his  pipe  aflame  on  the  straw  of  his  bed,  and  the  barn 
burnt  down  and  the  horse  burnt  up. 

And  Clarence  O'Shay  ran  that  fast  away  from  the 
blaze  that  when  the  Captain  had  him  up  on  charge  of 
cruelty  to  a  beast  and  arsony  to  a  barn,  Clarence  come 
into  court  with  an  alibi ;  whereby  the  jury  acquit  him 
of  arsony,  by  that  he  could  n't  have  possibly  been  at 
the  barn  at  the  time  j  and  fined  him  twenty  dollars 
for  cruelty  to  a  beast  because  at  such  time  he  ought 
to  have  been  at  the  barn. 

i  Reprinted  from  "The  Cat  and  the  Cherub  "  to  complete  this  volume. 
27 


28  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

And  the  Captain,  as  some  say  to  make  amends  for 
the  charge  found  false,  or  as  others  say  to  git  O'Shay 
before  an  impudent  cocked-hat  court  some  day,  instid 
of  a  civil  one,  got  an  enlistment  for  O'Shay  as  a  second- 
class  blue- jacket  in  the  navy,  and  then  straightway 
forgot  of  him.  For  the  Captain  was  busy  with  trad 
ing  of  his  hot-skotched  farm  and  with  having  his  rich 
wife's  relations  tickle  the  administration  to  git  him  a 
fine  command. 

And  they  fixed  it  to  shove  aside  the  one  that  should 
have  it  and  give  old  Tarrant  command  of  the  battle 
ship  Utah,  U.  S.  N.,  a.  brand-new  grand  machine  of 
war  of  thirteen  thousand  ton  by  specification  and  four 
teen  thousand  by  fact,  they  say  j  she  had  a  whole  grove 
of  funnels  and  military  tops  and  wicked  rifles  point 
ing  every  what  way.  And  the  Captain  come  aboard 
of  her  and  hoisted  his  pennant  and  declared  she  was 
in  commission.  But  't  was  three  months  before  he 
had  her  ready  to  commit  anything  but  lying  forninst 
the  pier. 

Well,  Clarence  O'Shay,  going  his  way,  was  sent  to 
a  big  fat  wooden  receiving-ship—one  of  the  war  of 
1812.  That  's  where  I  see  him  first.  A  square,  short, 
squat,  raw  squab  he  was,  with  brick-colored  fur  and 
a  jaw  like  the  end  of  a  box;  and  his  shanks  was 
twisted  like  andirons'  legs.  There  was  two  or  three 
hundred  aboard,  some  recruits  like  him,  and  some 
with  their  hides  tanned  with  experience,  like  me. 

The  officers  took  him  and  put  him  through  the  set 
ting-up  exercises  day  by  day,  till  his  shoulder-blades 
ground  the  skin  of  his  back  between  him  and  the  beads 
stood  out  on  his  brow,  and  they  had  him  straightened  j 


THE  SPIEIT  IN  THE  PIPE  29 

and  they  swore  at  him  till  they  filled  him  with  respect ; 
and  they  taught  him  the  evil  end  of  a  gun,  and  a  notion 
of  standing  in  line  and  counting  fours  and  drilling 
with  the  rest  of  the  tarriers ;  and  I  learned  him  how 
to  swing  to  his  hammick  without  kicking  all  four  of 
his  neighbors  out  of  bed  j  and  he  got  the  gift  of  it  in 
three  months,  and  no  credit  to  his  stupidity. 

And  when  we  made  part  of  a  draft  of  fifty  to  fill 
out  the  Utah  I  took  him  under  me  wing  and  showed 
him  how  to  smuggle  his  jug  in  the  broad  light  of  day 
past  the  searching  sergeant  of  marines  j  and  he  took 
to  that  handily .  But — oh,  a  real  man-o'-war  was  a 
wildering  bedazzlement  to  him !  ?T  was  cross-eying 
to  him  !  Such  that  he  spent  the  deal  of  his  time  a-f all- 
ing  through  coal-holes  and  hatches  and  ladderways, 
all  by  mistake,— that  green  he  was,— and  making 
friends  everywhere  in  the  bowels  of  the  ship  by  it, 
with  telling  how  once  he  had  risked  his  life  to  save 
the  Captain's  horse  from  being  dry-smoked. 

So  I  took  him  a  walk— to  rub  off  his  luster.  I 
showed  him  the  air-pumps  and  steam-pumps  and  hand- 
pumps  and  hydraulicky-pumps,  and  the  fan-gear  and 
tiller-gear  and  turning-gear ;  and  condinsers  and  ice- 
makers  and  forty  small  engines  here  and  there  ;  with 
the  winches  and  capstans  and  dynamos,  and  ash-hoists 
and  shot-lifts  and  railways,  and  deck-plates  and  hand- 
wheels,  and  water-tight  doors  and  holds  and  bottoms 
—me  telling  him  what  each  and  every  one  was  for. 
And  I  expostulated  to  him  how  the  green-flanged  red- 
painted  pipe  overhead  carried  water,  and  the  yellow- 
flanged  blue  pipe  carried  steam  from  the  donkey,  and 
the  black-flanged  gray  pipe  carried  pressed  air,  and 


30  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

the  red-flanged  green  pipe  carried  hydraulicky,  and 
the  speaking-tube  pipe,  painted  yellow,  took  whispers 
all  over  the  ship ;  and  I  showed  him  twenty  flush 
hatches  and  started  to  tell  him  what  each  one  was  for. 
But  O'Shay  took  to  drink— saying  that  Heaven  would 
forgive  him. 

And  he  nursed  his  jug  till  he  emptied  it — and  that 
with  all  stragglers  aboard  and  us  lying  in  the  lower 
harbor  with  every  one  sobering  for  a  cruise !  And  he 
laid  down  on  the  tank- tops  and  sung : 

I  'd  rather  be  right  than  Prisident ! 
I  ;d  rather  be  boggled  than  right,  bedad ! 
Pop !  goes  the  goozle  ! 

and  such  profanity.  And  when  I  asked  him  to  brace 
up  his  back  and  temper  his  voice  to  the  regulations 
he  said  he  was  too  busy  with  his  joy.  And  I  begged 
him  and  begged  him  for  fear  of  court  martial  to 
straighten  himself— but  in  vain;  and  when  I  spilled 
a  bucket  of  brine  on  his  head  he  said  he  was  tight- 
tight— water-tight;  and  he  asked  if  I  was  a  blue  bag 
pipe  with  red  fringes— that  obvious  to  his  surround 
ings  he  was ;  and  when  I  give  him  me  boot  in  his  ribs 
he  laughed  with  joy  and  said  >t  was  the  pleasantest 
sensatio:i  in  the  history  of  man. 

And  so  for  fear  of  his  court  martial  for  smuggling 
his  jug  I  lifted  a  manhole  door  and  doubled  him  up 
and  stuffed  him  down  between  the  inner  and  outer 
skins  of  the  ship— 't  was  a  space  not  three  feet  in  the 
clear ;  and  I  closed  him  in  with  a  light  to  sleep  by  and 
screwed  down  the  nuts  on  the  door  hard  and  fast. 
And  the  last  command  I  heard  him  say  was  to  lower 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE  31 

no  more  blasted  coffins  there,  but  to  leave  him  in  the 
gentlemanly  enjoyment  of  his  tomb. 

Well,  I  hauled  off  and  forgot  of  him.  For  I  see  by 
the  signs  that  the  ship  was  to  crawl  away  by  moon 
light,  and  me  to  serve  me  lick  at  the  wheel  at  midnight. 
So  I  hove  to  and  snored  in  me  hammick  between  me 
favorite  beams.  And  there  was  little  Clarence,  forty 
feet  below,  lying  boxed  up  on  the  hard  cement  of  her 
outside  bottom,  with  her  inner  bottom  for  his  sky, 
not  two  feet  above  his  nose,  and  his  feet  ag'in'  her  ver 
tical  keel  and  his  head  bang  up  ag'in'  another  vertical 
plate  called  a  longitudinal.  For,  ye  see,  a  steel  man- 
o'-war's  shell  is  built  on  the  cellulose  system — as 
though  ye  should  cut  off  one  story  of  an  empty  honey 
comb  and  bend  it  to  the  shape  of  a  ship's  bottom  j  and 
this  was  one  of  the  cells  which  six  of  'em  made  a  com 
partment  on  the  Utah.  And  ye  could  crawl  from  one 
of  the  six  to  another  by  virtue  of  holes  in  the  upright 
plates  j  but  beyond  the  six  of  the  compartment  ye 
could  n't  go  without  tearing  through  a  twelve-pound 
plate,  unless  by  the  manhole  door,  which  was  screwed 
down  tight  above  Clarence's  head. 

But  O'Shay  laid  absorbing  the  flavor  of  his  drink 
long  past  when  old  Tarrant  come  aboard  from  a  cham 
pagne  goozle,  two  thirds  content  with  the  universe 
and  placing  main  reliance  on  his  executive  officer. 
The  Captain  ordered  the  Utah  under  way  and  tumbled 
into  his  bunk  j  and  I  heard  the  anchor  hauling  itself 
in  over  the  windlass  and  the  engines  begin  to  go  bump 
—bump,  bump— bump,  and  I  knew  in  me  sleep  we 
was  off  hunting  for  bad  weather  for  a  sea-test. 

Then  by  and  by,  down  below,  O'Shay  half  waked  in 


32  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

his  sleep  and  inquired  the  time  of  day,  and  no  one 
answered  him— nothing  but  the  stamping  of  the  old 
double-harnessed  elephants  of  engines  two  hundred 
feet  abaft  of  him.  And  he  laid  on  his  back  with  the 
electric  hand-light  at  his  side,  gazing  up  at  the  black 
manhole  door,  and  by  inches  he  partly  come  to  him 
self—seeing  above  him  and  below  him  and  all  around 
him  nothing  but  cold  red  iron  walls  and  hearing  the 
hard  pounding  of  something  not  very  far  off,  he  did  n't 
know  what.  And  then  a  cold  shiver  chased  itself  all 
over  him,  for  the  thought  of  his  being  buried  alive  in 
an  iron  casket  that  way.  "Begad,"  he  says,  "I 
remember  now  I  died  with  only  a  boot  in  the  ribs  for 
me  absolution,"  he  says,  "  and,  begad,  I  hear  the  tread 
of  the  twelve  apostles  plain  as  day  !"  And  with  that 
he  drew  in  a  breath  like  a  wheezy  cylinder  and  let  out 
a  howl  to  'em  for  a  stay  of  proceedings  on  his  soul ; 
but  he  might  as  well  have  been  a  rat  a-drownding  in 
the  bilge ;  for  the  twelve  apostles  kept  on  treading, 
treading,— bump,  bump,— never  no  farther  and  never 
no  nearer— keeping  step  all  the  time  as  if  they  was 
walking  in  a  circle  round  him,  enjoying  the  fun  of  it. 
And  he  give  a  shriek  and  tried  to  jump  up,  but  the 
iron  skin  struck  his  head  and  knocked  him  down,  and 
he  saw  a  hole  that  let  into  the  next  cell,  and  he  crawled 
through  it  like  a  wild  snake,  dragging  the  light  and 
leaving  his  wits  and  pieces  of  his  breeches  behind  him, 
first  praying  and  begging  of  the  apostles,  and  then 
a-swearing  at  'em,  and  then  a-cursing  of  the  Captain's 
horse  for  burning  up  and  leaving  him  to  be  buried 
alive  at  sea,  and  all  the  time  crawling  and  howling 
and  cold-sweating  till  he  crawled  through  the  six  cells 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE  33 

back  again  to  the  first ;  and  lie  laid  down  on  his  face 
and  weep  with  distaste  of  it. 

When  his  tears  was  spent  he  found  that  his  hand 
was  grasping  of  a  pipe.  And  seeing  it  was  painted 
yellow,  O'Shay  come  to  himself  a  bit,  and  remembered 
what  't  was,  for  sure.  For,  ye  see,  the  speaking-tube 
pipes  in  the  Utah  was  led  down  through  the  inner 
bottom  to  keep  'em  safe  from  splinters  and  shell  j  and 
this  happened  to  be  the  one  that  went  forward  from 
the  Captain's  bunk— the  same  I  showed  him  in  the 
pilot-house,  with  telling  him  if  he  was  captain  he  could 
speak  with  me  through  it.  And  O'Shay  took  out  his 
grandfather's  knife,  with  the  file  in  it,  and  sawed  away 
at  the  brass  pipe  to  make  a  hole  in  it ;  and  he  recol 
lected  the  flask  in  his  pocket  and  took  comfort  by 
that;  and  he  filed  like  a  good  one,  and  emptied  the 
flask,  and  soon  he  had  a  hole  in  the  pipe  as  big  as  a 
dollar  j  and  he  put  his  big  mouth  to  it  and  says :  "  Phe- 
euw !"  with  a  breath  that  blowed  the  brass  filings  a- 
jingling  for  yards  abaft.  And  the  automatic  mouth 
piece  aft  in  the  Captain's  cabin— 't  was  nigh  on  to 
midnight— and  the  same  like  mouthpiece  for'ard  in 
the  pilot-house,  both  whistled  to  wake  the  dead.  For, 
ye  see,  Clarence,  being  in  the  middle,  was  establishing 
himself  with  both  ends  of  it — though  he  had  no 
thoughts  but  of  me.  And  the  quartermaster's  mate 
in  the  pilot-house  jumped  to  the  mouthpiece  and 
whispered :  "  Yessir."  And  in  the  cabin  old  Tarrant, 
waked  up  from  his  champagne  doze  by  the  hiss  in  his 
ear,  took  up  the  mouthpiece  that  hung  by  a  flexible 
tube  from  the  sheathing,  and  says  with  impatience : 
"  Well,  sir  ? "  Which  neither  of  'em  heard  the  other  j 


34  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

but  O'Shay,  down  below,  hearing  their  voices  associ 
ating  together,  shouts :  "  Come  and  unlock  me,  ye 
blasted  idiot !"  And  the  quartermaster's  mate,  think 
ing  old  Tarrant  was  locked  in  his  state-room,  says : 
"  Yessir  !"  and  charged  horse  and  foot  along  the  deck 
toward  the  cabins.  And  old  Tarrant,  at  hearing  such 
marvelous  insubordination  shouted  to  him  by  some 
one  at  the  other  end  of  the  tube,  shot  up  from  his  bunk 
like  a  mortar.  "Ye  're  under  arrest!"  says  he, 
through  the  mouthpiece.  "  Go  tell  the  master-at- 
arms  to  lock  ye  up  !"  says  he.  And  O'Shay,  thinking 
it  was  me,  shook  his  fist  at  the  hole  in  the  pipe,  and 
bawls  in  old  Tarrant's  ear :  "  Under  arrest,  is  it  ?  I  'm 
ten  miles  under  dry  land  !"  says  he.  "  Come  lemme 
out— or  I  '11  make  a  corpse  of  ye  that  can't  walk  the 
streets  of  heaven  in  decency!"  And  with  hearing 
that  blasphemy  the  Captain  leapt  over  and  pushed  a 
bell,  and  his  Scandinavian  blockhead  of  a  private-of- 
marines-orderly  come  in.  "Arrest  that  man  in  the 
pilot-house,  ye  numskull !"  orders  the  Captain. 

And  the  private-orderly-numskull  lit  out  for  the 
pilot-house,  running  to  split  his  tight  blue  robin's-egg 
breeches ;  and  he  meets  the  quartermaster's  mate  run 
ning  and  asking :  "  What 's  the  matter  with  the  skip 
per?"  and  says  the  orderly:  "What 's  the  matter  at 
the  pilot-house  ?  "  and  they  both  went  on  without  an 
swering  each  other.  And  the  mate  burst  into  the 
Captain's  state-room,  saying  eagerly:  "Did  ye  want 
help,  sir?"  "Help,  ye  fool!"  roars  the  Captain. 
"Who  said  it?  Do  I  want  help  to  put  on  me  trou 
sers?  You  're  under  arrest,  too,  sir!  Go  tell  the 
orderly  to  arrest  ye  despite  yer  resistance !"  he  says, 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE  35 

or  something  like  it.  "  I  '11  see  if  there  's  mutiny 
aboard  this  craft/7  says  old  Tarrant,  putting  his  feet 
into  the  sleeves  of  his  dress-coat  by  mistake,  and 
howling  in  a  voice  to  wake  the  dead  and  half  the  ward 
room  officers :  "  Call  the  officer  of  the  deck  !  Pilot 
house  there,"  he  says  through  the  mouthpiece,  leaning 
over  his  bunk,  "  send  aft  the  officer  of  the  deck !" 
And  O'Shay,  down  below,  thinking  it  was  me,  bellers 
back :  "  1 11  send  ye  aft  the  twist  of  me  thumb  in  yer 
eye,"  he  says ;  "  come  down  and  lemme  out  or  I  '11 
come  up  and  make  a  horse-meat  sausage  of  ye  !"  And 
about  that  time  I  began  to  hear  'em  in  extraordinary 
expeditions  on  deck,  and  the  orderly  hollerin'  to  split 
himself,  and  the  m aster- at-arms  running  steeple 
chases,  and  I  says  to  meself  it 's  time  to  spill. 

And  from  the  hatchway  I  noticed  there  was  no  officer 
on  the  bridge,  so  I  reconnoitered  the  man  at  the  wheel 
—the  one  I  come  up  to  be  standing  by  to  relieve. 
"  The  matter  ? "  says  he,  shifting  his  quid  and  staring 
straight  on  in  her  course— 't  was  a  bright  moonlight 
night,  ten  miles  off  Sandy  Hook.  "  There  's  the  divil 
to  pay  and  no  pitch  hot,"  he  says.  "  Just  listen  to  the 
old  man  talking  in  his  drink  through  the  voice-pipe  !" 
And  I  took  the  mouthpiece  and  heard  a  voice  saying: 
"  I  warn  ye ;  if  me  soul  leaves  me  body  I  '11  come  up 
at  ye  through  the  pipe,  I  will !  I  '11  stick  yer  heart 
that  full  of  holes  as  a  strawberry !"  he  says.  "  Me 
naked  spirit  '11  sit  on  yer  ear,"  he  says,  "  like  a  bar 
nacle  on  a  clam— talking  to  ye  till  the  end  of  time !" 
he  says,  "  and  longer,  begad  !" 

And  me  heart  moved  two  inches  to  one  side,  for  I 
knowed  't  was  O'Shay  that  was  bringing  the  whole 


36  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

ship's  company  to  its  feet  with  the  belief  that  old 
Tan-ant  had  gone  daft  with  his  drink.  I  could  hear 
manding  and  countermanding  from  stem  to  stern  of 
her.  With  that  I  grabbed  a  gallon  of  valve-oil  from 
the  floor  of  the  pilot-house  and  dumped  it  quick  down 
the  pipe,  and  polished  off  the  mouthpiece  with  me 
sleeve.  And  I  tumbled  below,  for  I  had  but  five 
minutes  to  git  O'Shay  and  save  his  neck  from  court 
martial ;  and  I  knew  the  oil  would  only  stop  him  till 
he  could  spit  it  out  and  draw  his  breath.  For  luck 
there  was  no  one  by  when  I  unfastened  him.  "  Hello, 
Clarence/7  says  I.  "What  are  ye  here  for?"  "For 
me  health,  ye  baboon !"  says  he,  spitting  oil  from  his 
teeth.  And  at  first  he  showed  fight ;  but  I  hauled  him 
out  by  the  collar  of  his  neck,  and  sat  him  down  hard 
once  or  twice  on  the  tank-tops  to  show  him  his  legs 
was  too  stiff  for  it,  and  I  whispered  to  him  of  the  of 
ficers  running  around  crazy  to  find  him,  with  their 
threats  of  keel-hauling  him.  And  I  carried  him  up 
the  ladder  on  me  back  and  planted  him  on  deck  with 
care. 

Along  come  a  young  surgeon  looking  for  what  he 
could  find,  and  says  he:  "What  ails  this  man?" 
" Nothing,  sir,"  says  I ;  "he  's  fallen  down  two  hatch 
ways  and  disturbed  his  innards,  as  appears  from  his 
mouth,  sir/7  which  was  still  bubbling  oil.  And  the 
surgeon  says :  "  Dump  him  into  the  sick-bay."  Which 
I  did,  giving  him  a  pointer  to  keep  mum  with  his  voice 
about  smuggling  his  jug,  and  advising  him  to  git  all 
the  sleep  he  could.  "For  I  hear,"  I  says,  "ye  're  to 
be  hanged  at  the  signal-arm  at  sunrise." 

And  when  I  come  for  me  trick  at  the  wheel,  on  the 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  THE  PIPE  37 

bridge  I  see  the  pilot-house  full  of  ward-room  officers, 
and  they  had  the  quartermaster's  mate  and  the  man 
whose  relief  I  was  and  the  wooden-head  Scandinavian 
orderly,  questioning  all  three  of  'em  about  what  they 
had  said ;  but  the  Captain  they  had  soothed  back  to 
bed.  And  they  could  figure  no  relationship  with  the 
statements  of  them  three  and  what  the  Captain  had 
said.  I  heard  'em  send  for  the  Regulations,  and  I 
knowed  they  was  considering  the  steps  to  be  taken 
when  a  captain  loses  his  command  by  virtue  of  his  vice 
of  intemperance,  for  they  thought  he  had  drillium 
trimmins.  And  from  what  I  heard  I  see  't  was  the 
intention  to  watch  him  in  the  morning  and  take  action 
according  to  his  condition  j  and  so  they  dispersed. 
And  when  me  trick  was  done  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  I  lost  no  time  in  dropping  below  to  make  a 
clumsy  job  of  repairing  the  voice-pipe,  at  the  risk  of 
imminent  discovery. 

'T  was  four  bells  of  the  morning  before  I  had  fin 
ished  it.  I  says  to  meself,  I  '11  go  and  be  shining 
brass  knobs  in  the  cabin,  in  place  of  O'Shay,  and 
hear  what  is  said.  And  the  first  thing  old  Tarrant 
remarks  when  he  opens  the  door  was :  "  Go  tell  the 
officer  of  the  deck  to  send  aft  all  those  men  I  placed 
under  arrest  last  night  at  midnight."  Which  I  did, 
and  the  officer  hummed  and  hawed  and  says :  "  How 
does  the  Captain  look  this  morning?"  "How  does 
he  look  ? "  says  I ;  "  he  looks  like  he  had  bad  sleep  last 
night,  sir,"  I  says,  "and  maybe  misleading  dreams, 
with  no  irreverence  to  him,  sir." 

And  the  officer  says :  "  Hum  ;  go  tell  him  he  was 
mistaken.  He  placed  no  man  under  arrest  last 


38  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

night."  And  when  I  told  old  Tarrant  that,  he  did  n't 
fly  off  his  handle,  but  looked  a  bit  dazed  to  himself. 
"'T  was  the  night  before/'  he  says  to  himself ,  —  "  yes. 
Never  mind ;  't  was  the  night  before."  And  he  come 
with  false  leisure  for'ard,  and  see  the  quartermaster's 
mate  standing  on  one  leg  ag'in'  the  tompion  of  old  ten- 
inch,  smoking  of  his  pipe  to  beat  the  stack  of  a  soft- 
burning  Britisher. 

"  Was  it  last  night/'  says  the  Captain,  "  I  had  you 
aft  at  midnight  ? "  he  says,  a  bit  dubious.  "  Me,  sir  ?  *' 
says  the  mate,  with  his  eyebrows  flying  up  under  his 
hat.  "No,  sir,  't  \\a&  n't  me,  sir;  nor  any  night,  sir." 
And  old  Tarrant  walked  aft  again.  And  't  was  the 
last  word  any  one  hear  of  it,  or  of  anything  that  had 
occcurred  that  night.  But  during  that  cruise  the 
color  of  old  Tarrant's  beak  changed  from  a  flaming 
Turkey  red  to  a  decent  claret  and  water ;  and  't  was 
plain  he  thought  he  had  the  drillium  dreams. 

Well,  I  went  for'ard  and  shook  O'Shay  to  wake  him. 
li  Beware  me  naked  spirit !"  he  mutters,  half  obvious 
of  himself.  "Wake  up,  Clarence,"  says  I,  bringing 
him  to  his  senses.  "  Are  ye  better  this  morning,  me 
boy  ?  'T  is  twenty-four  hours  ye  laid  in  a  stupor  call 
ing  out  names  to  beat  the  divil.  Ye  've  had  a  bad 
case  of  drillium  trimmins,  me  lad.  'T  is  a  special  dis 
pensation  ye  're  living  this  day  !" 

"Is  that  all  of  it?"  says  Clarence,  rolling  of  his 
eyes  with  relief.  "  Thank  Heaven !"  he  says.  "  I 
dreamed  I  was  being  shipped  in  a  tin  can  to  the  King 
of  the  Man-Eating  Isles !" 


THE   YELLOW   BURGEE 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE 


HIS  was  a  dream  I  had.  There  was 
me  and  Clarence  O'Shay ;  and  Fer 
gus  of  Oregon ;  and  Williams  the 
nigger;  and  Bo's'n  Nutt  of  New- 
buryport,  so  called,  though  no  bo's'n 
at  all  ;  and  Brawney  Thompson,  the 
new  recruit;  and  we  was  the  crew  of  her  tops— all 
bottled  with  fight,  and  guessing  what  next,  with  the 
department  tight  as  a  drum  with  information,  for  yet 
having  none  to  impart.  By  the  hot  twilight  of  the 
Keys  the  clot  of  us  would  rally  under  the  jackstaff 
for  general  expansion  and  repartee,  till  we  was  the  gist 
of  society.  Then  Bo's'n  Nutt  would  play  rubber  with 
the  truth  of  his  troubles  in  being  a  boy  in  Newbury- 
port,  and  me  to  draw  the  giant's  bow  of  me  doings  in 
China ;  then  Clarence  would  dance  a  solemn  sand-dance 
with  his  feet,  and  Fergus  of  Oregon  would  speak : 
"  Flap-doodle,  flap-doodle—fall  in  for  your  boodle  !" — 
till  at  last  the  nigger  with  his  infant  banjo,  and 
Brawney  Thompson  with  his  beautiful  nasal  voice, 
would  sing  music  to  words  spliced  by  Brawney  him 
self  while  laying  awake  to  think  of  his  Madeleine,  like  : 

The  first  I  knew  I  had  me  tears,  I  found  me  eyes  afloat, 
To  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  at  Guan-ta-wa-mo ; 

The  first  I  knew  I  had  me  heart,  I  found  it  in  me  throat, 
To  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  at  Guan-ta-wa-mo, 
41 


42  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

which  would  start  with  the  stamping  of  feet,  and  end 
with  silence  j  for  all  the  rhymes  that  Brawn ey  wrote 
would  finish  sad. 

One  morning  we  hove  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  bid  adieu  without  saying  good-by  •  and  our  hopes 
of  gitting  something  for  our  ammunition  was  certified 
by  the  invent  of  a  stranger.  He  wore  knee-breeches 
and  a  Walter  Raleigh  beard;  and  he  stops  at  the 
gang-boards,  with  his  nose  smelling  at  the  rifle  of  the 
marine. 

"Who  the  divil  do  ye  wish  to  see,  sir?"  says  the 
guard,  or  such  words. 

The  knee-breeches  gives  a  shirk  of  the  eyebrows, 
and  waves  at  the  rifle  to  abolish  it. 

"Tell  'em  I  've  came,"  says  he,— "and  they  don't 
seem  to  expect  me  !"  he  says,  in  surprise.  "  Call  the 
captain  and  his  officers,"  says  he,  granting  the  privilege 
with  grace. 

"What  name,  sir?"  says  the  marine,  polite  as  a 
dancing-master,  and  aching  to  push  him  in  the  coun 
tenance  with  his  piece. 

"  What  name  !"  says  the  knee-breeches.  "  Ain't  me 
face  been  printed  often  enough,  with  me  biography  ? 
Don't  ye  read?  I  'm  Kuhlamar,"  says  he,  with  a 
pause  to  let  it  sink  home,—"  Kuhlamar,  the  War  Critic 
of  the  i  Daily  Flash,' "  says  he,  staring  at  the  rifle,  and 
ignoring  the  cold  eye  in  the  white  breeches  behind  it. 
"  I  never  met  such  a  crazy  divil  at  the  door  of  the 
Pope !"  says  he. 

And  says  the  marine,  stiif  as  St.  Peter : 

"  Tell  the  deck  one  of  them  reporters—" 

"Reporters!"     says    the     knee-breeches.     "What 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  43 

brand  of  laughing-stock  are  ye  ?  Don't  ye  know  I  'in 
the  Special  Envoy  of  the  '  Daily  Flash'?" 

So  by  letters  of  introduction  and  command  he  sad 
dled  himself  on  the  crowded  ward-room  mess,  and 
begun  roostering  up  and  down  the  quarter-deck.  I 
never  hear  what  happened ;  but  after  the  first  meal  I 
see  the  War  Critic  smoking  to  himself,  with  the  officers 
casting  eyes  and  nodding  in  general  opinion ;  and  he 
never  seen  anything  but  the  sea  before  him.  And  the 
same  thereafter— him  total  oblivious,  but  writing  down 
notes  of  his  thoughts  disfavorable.  Brawney  and  me 
and  Clarence  lit  out  for  the  upper  top  on  a  call  for 
quarters.  'T  was  command  of  silence,  with  everything 
trained  on  an  innocent  bark  on  the  bow,  and  all  hands 
mumbling  "  Too  much  drill,"  when  a  snicker  arose, 
and  with  it  the  War  Critic.  There  was  two  revolvers 
slung  to  his  waist,  with  ammunition  to  take  Gibraltar ; 
and  a  spy-glass,  a  canteen  of  booze,  and  a  roll  of 
bunting  tied  to  him,  along  with  a  photograph-box; 
and  his  coat  was  a  patchwork  of  pockets,  with  maps 
and  pads,  and  ink-druling  pencils,  and  yeller  glasses 
to  give  color  to  the  Spanish  war.  The  red  cross  was 
sewed  to  both  sleeves,  and  his  big  white  helmet  made 
him  look  like  a  snail  a-dangling  of  its  in'ards. 

"  'T  is  only  a  drill,"  says  he,  through  his  spy-glass, 
as  kind  as 'your  grandfather.  "And  ye  need  n't  fear 
any  fighting,  for  I  have  a  letter  from  me  friends  at 
court." 

"  Silence,  there  !"  yells  up  Bo's'n  Nutt.  The  War 
Critic  give  him  the  piteous  smile,  and  killed  time  by 
taking  the  bo's'n  with  his  photograph-box.  By  and 
by  he  strolled  with  all  toggery  through  the  living- 


44  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

space;  and  they  stared  before  him,  and  cat-called 
behind  him ;  but  he  turned,  and  says  not  to  be  scared 
of  him,  and  he  conversed  as  indulgent  as  with  luna 
tics.  He  had  private  information  as  to  her  destina 
tion,  he  says,— and  they  all  crowded  to  the  bait,— but 
't  was  not  good  policy  to  tell,  he  says,  at  the  present 
time.  But,  from  his  experience,  which  extended  from 
Chile  to  China,  by  way  of  Turkey,  he  would  say  that 
the  war  would  be  but  a  naval  parade,  with  a  little 
bluffing  at  long  range,  and  a  killing  or  two.  It 
grieved  him  sore,  for  fighting  was  his  joy.  Anyway, 
he  says,  his  career  was  the  most  interesting  he  ever 
hear  of,  and  his  talents  the  most  extraordinary. 
'T  was  always  him  first  in  with  the  news,  which  was 
why  all  them  that  ranked  as  but  plain  correspondents 
was  down  on  him. 

JT  was  him  that  first  noticed  the  Johnstown  flood ; 
and  he  jumped  aboard  of  it  with  a  hen-coop,  to  have 
the  front  seat  and  arrive  at  the  telegraph.  And  he 
was  the  only  one  living  that  had  interviewed  the  Czar 
—the  old  Czar  watching  with  two  cocked  revolvers  to 
see  if  he  slipped  a  cog  in  his  etiquette.  And  he  was 
the  same  that  advised  with  the  King  of  Greece  for 
exterminating  the  Turks ;  but  the  King  got  grouty, 
and,  bedad,  the  War  Critic  brought  over  the  Turks  to 
knock  him  into  a  pint-pot.  But  he  says  he  was  tired 
of  herding  with  them  kings  and  queens ;  for  they  was 
a  stuck-up  lot,  he  says,  with  their  noses  always  in  your 
pedigree ;  but 't  was  superior  to  laying  at  Washington, 
and  driving  a  string  of  congressmen  with  the  brand 
of  the  "  Flash."  The  only  decent  life  was  making 
war;  and  he  was  planting  the  mines  for  a  general 
conflict  of  the  powers,  which,  he  says,  the  world  needed 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  45 

to  draw  its  bad  blood.  And  by  the  end  of  his  two 
hours'  ego-biography  there  was  none  left  but  Brawney 
Thompson,  that  stood  sizing  him  up,  and  Bo's'n  Nutt, 
that  was  aching  to  tell  a  lie  of  his  own,  but  could  n't 
git  the  wedge  in.  The  War  Critic  fastens  on  Braw 
ney,  and  commences  to  educate  him,  from  telling  him 
how  to  wear  a  beard  to  how  inferior  he  was  to  the  blue 
jackets  of  Europe.  The  navy  was  bad  enough,  says 
he,  but  the  regular  army  on  parade  would  make  the 
Emperor  of  Germany  fall  off  his  horse.  And  he  says 
he  always  passed  himself  for  an  Austrian  abroad,  for 
shame  of  the  United  States  being  so  raw  in  the  par 
ticulars  of  formality. 

"For  I  see  your  intelligence,"  says  the  War  Critic, 
"  and  by  your  conversation  more  of  a  gentleman  than 
them  officers  aft." 

And  Brawney  says,  "  Thank  ye,"  which  was  the  first 
he  had  opened  his  mouth. 

"  So  it  may  occur  I  need  ye,"  says  the  War  Critic, 
dropping  his  tone.  "  The  captain  and  his  staff  con 
spires  to  beat  me  out  of  sending  the  news  j  but  the 
poor  divils  don't  know  what  it  is  to  go  up  ag'in'  the 
'  Daily  Flash ' ;  for  ye  can  lay  to  it,  1 'm  the  big  thing 
aboard  this  craft.  'T  is  all  right  to  be  singing  songs 
of  the  star-spangled  rag,  but  the  l  Daily  Flash '  will  be 
doing  politics  when  one-legged  patriots  is  starving  on 
ten-dollar  pensions  ;  and  ye  can  think  of  that.  I  '11 
throw  up  me  hat  with  the  next,  and  yell  '  Hail,  Co 
lumbia!'"  says  he;  "but  the  'Daily  Flash7  will  give 
the  people  the  news,  if  it  scuttles  the  Ship  of  State  to 
git  it  j  and  if  the  fact  is  worth  money  to  ye,  I  may  see 
ye  again,"  says  he,  walking  off. 

"Eh?     What?"  says  Brawney,  staring  after  him. 


46  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  The  blackguard  !"  says  Brawney,  coming  to  himself. 
"  And  he  called  the  flag  a  rag— and  I  never  pulled  out 
his  Austrian  beard  ;  and  what  will  me  Madeleine  say 
to  that?" 

"  'T  was  the  best  thing  ye  never  did/'  says  I,  "  and 
the  future  will  prove  it." 

We  made  Cape  Haitien  without  adventures,  and  the 
launch  was  called  away  for  despatches.  The  War 
Critic  saunters  down,  and  sets  himself  in  the  stern- 
sheets,  like  the  admiral  of  all  he  surveyed. 

"  Ye  '11  have  to  go  back  on  board,  sir/7  says  little 
Ensign  Charlie. 

"  What  for  ? "  says  the  War  Critic.  "  Is  the  launch 
disabled?" 

"No,  sir,"  says  Charlie;  "'t  is  because  ye  can't  go 
ashore." 

"I  '11  look  into  that !"  says  the  War  Critic,  climbing 
the  ladder.  "Ye  can  hold  the  launch  till  I  confer 
with  the  captain,"  says  he. 

"Cast  off!"  says  Charlie;  and  the  launch  rolled 
away  to  town.  We  waited  for  her  long  in  the  dark, 
me  and  Brawney  chewing  tobacco  in  the  eyes  of  the 
ship,  and  expeculating  on  what  was  the  chances  of 
meeting  the  foe.  Then  for  the  first  time  since  the 
launch  departed  the  War  Critic  appeared,  and  mo 
tioned  silent  for  Brawney  to  draw  to  one  side.  They 
fumbled  together  in  the  dark  without  speaking  au 
dible,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  'em  break  away  without 
Brawney  smashing  him  for  having  miscalled  the  flag. 
The  War  Critic  wandered  away  in  the  gloom,  and 
Brawney  drags  me  double-quick  to  a  den  in  the  tor 
pedo-flat. 


THE  YELLOW  BUEGEE  47 

"  He  gimme  ten  dollars  and  a  tin  can,"  says  Braw- 
ney.  "  He  says  I  must  drop  the  can  to  the  bumboat 
with  the  sail." 

"And—?"  says  I. 

"  I  dropped  the  can,"  says  Brawney.  "  But  first  I 
drew  the  charge.  Listen  to  it,  directed  to  one  at  Cape 
Haitien : 

"I  am  able  to  announce  exclusively  that  our  destination, 
which  for  strategic  reasons  of  greatest  importance  government 
has  so  far  succeeded  in  concealing,  is  Isle  of  Pines.  As  soon  as 
this  fact  is  known,  change  of  destination  will  become  necessary, 
that  enemy  may  not  profit  by  disclosure.  Influence  of  '  Flash's ' 
War  Critic  is  being  thrown  toward  early  crushing  of  enemy  in 
these  waters,  at  whatever  sacrifice.  '  Flash's '  Special  Envoy 
will  fly  yellow  burgee  of  '  Daily  Flash '  when  ship  goes  into 
action ;  and  flag  of  '  Flash'  will  never  be  taken  down. 

"  Special  to  Mulliraw:  Flag  is  no  fake.  Shall  fly  it  long 
enough  for  snap  shot  in  confusion  of  some  prize-capture.  Try 
hot  oven  on  this  sea-mule  and  his  officers :  they  have  thrown 
me  down  everywhere.  K." 

In  ten  minutes  Brawney  had  red-taped  himself  to  Old 
Handsome  in  his  cabin. 

"Hm!"  says  the  Old  Man,  tapping  his  desk,  "and 
what  did  ye  intend  with  the  ten  dollars  ? " 

"'T  was  cross-purpose,"  says  Brawney— "to  send  it 
to  me  Madeleine,  or  give  it  to  the  Red  Cross,  or  light 
me  pipe  with  it." 

The  Old  Man.  went  on  tapping. 

"  But,"  says  Brawney,  "  we  not  being  yet  married, 
— and  such  dirty  money  as  that,— why,  what  would 
me  Madeleine  think?  And  maybe  the  Red  Cross— 
or  else—"  says  he,  stammering. 


48  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  This  money,"  says  the  Old  Man,  handing  back  the 
bill,  "  is  from  the  l  Daily  Flash.'  It  came  cent  by  cent 
from  the  dirty  palms  of  discivilization,  paying  tribute 
to  the  king  of  the  garbage-heap,"  says  he— or  such 
words.  "  There 's  plenty  of  honest  money  over  there," 
says  he,  pointing  to  the  United  States.  "  The  Bed 
Cross  don't  have  to  draw  on  the  maggots  of  license 
and  corruption,"  says  he— or  such  words.  "  There  's 
five  ships  of  the  enemy  in  these  waters,  and  we  've  got 
to  git  past  'em.  This  man  would  deliver  us  all  to 
Davy  Jones  for  the  sake  of  glorifying  himself  in  his 
newspaper.  And  what  was  it  he  called  the  flag? " 

"  By  St.  Peter-in-the-Pilot-house  !"  exclaims  Braw- 
ney,  at  the  thought  of  it.  In  the  scratch  of  a  match 
ye  could  smell  the  ten  dollars  in  his  palm,  consuming 
in  flames. 

The  Old  Man  watched  the  ashes  being  poured  into 
Brawney's  cap  j  then  he  pulled  out  a  new  ten  from  his 
own  salary. 

"  Send  that  to  your  Madeleine,"  says  he,  "  and  tell 
her,  as  far  as  this  ship  has  its  keel,  I  know  a  good 
man." 

"Thank  ye,  sir— yes,  sir;  beg  pardon,  sir!"  says 
Brawney,  with  the  new  bill  in  his  hand ;  "  but,  any 
way,  me  Madeleine  has  dough  of  her  own ;  and,  any 
way,  the  money  is  only  come  by  virtue  of  a  d— d  squid 
aboard  that  would  spit  ink  on  the  flag ;  and  I  think  it 
would  twice  more  please  the  taste  of  me  Madeleine  to 
take  it  back  for  the  Red  Cross,  sir !" 

Bo's'n  Nutt  says  he  see  the  same  thing  took  place 
in  Newburyport,  when  he  was  a  boy  j  but  it 's  a  lie. 

We  was  a  grumbling  lot.     Drill  and  clear  and  jug- 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  49 

gle  with  dummy  loads  till  I  thought  I  would  forgit 
me  brain !  The  Old  Man  had  reinforced  the  upper 
top,  and  mounted  a  three-pounder,  being  special  for 
secondary  battery ;  and  he  had  placed  behind  it  the 
eye  of  Clarence  O'Shay,  such  that  Clarence  would  grin 
in  his  sleep,  and  would  sit  at  the  breech  by  the  hour, 
shaking  insults  at  the  sky-line.  But  never  a  bull-rag 
showed  up.  We  passed  to  the  north  of  Porto  Rico, 
and  begun  sliding  down  the  Antilles,  till  it  seemed  we 
had  fooled  the  enemy's  squadron,  with  no  chance  of 
excitement  more  j  and  Brawney  mumbled  we  was  no 
thing  but  a  picnic  for  a  news-scavenger.  The  four 
niggers  would  clump  apart,  in  disgrace  for  preserving 
good  nature.  Every  false  alarm,  by  day  or  night,  the 
War  Critic  would  haul  himself  to  the  top  in  all  his 
baggage  j  for  he  told  Brawney  the  top  was  the  softest 
place  in  case  of  surprise,  and  him  too  high-salaried  a 
man  to  be  risking  his  skin  unnecessary.  On  deck  he 
treated  us  shy  for  a  while  after  Cape  Haitieri  •  but  at 
length  he  come  with  a  bunch  of  cigars  from  his  give 
away  box.  Did  one  of  us  ever  meet  with  adventures  ? 
says  he ;  and  what  made  us  enlist  at  such  jobs? 

7T  was  the  speech  of  his  congressman  that  made  him 
enlist,  says  Brawney— which  't  was  thought  of  so 
highly  that  Congress  had  it  printed  and  sent  free 
through  the  mails.  The  speech  says,  who  was  it,  with 
none  dependent,  and  having  his  manhood,  that  would 
sit  home  in  his  slippers,  with  a  lot  of  bull-ragging 
fandangos  pulling  at  the  tail  of  the  eagle?  And 
Brawney  says  that  hit  him,  and  he  give  up  an  eighty- 
dollar  job.  The  War  Critic  let  out  a  laugh. 

"'T  was  me  that  wrote  it  for  him,"  says  he;  "for 


50  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

your  congressman  was  fuddled  as  a  snake  in  alcohol. 
'T  was  considered  the  best  he  ever  made,  and  he  had 
it  printed  at  his  own  expense.  'T  is  a  cheap  little 
rascal,  your  congressman ;  ye  can  buy  him  for  ten  dol 
lars  or  more :  but  a  man  that  won't  stay  bought,"  says 
the  War  Critic,  with  virtuous  indignation,  "  I  have  no 
use  for !" 

Brawney  threw  the  cigar  over  his  head,  and  walked 
off.  I  heard  him  mumbling  over  it  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  when,  by  the  regulations,  he  ought  to  be 
sleeping. 

"And  she  and  me  setting  up  to  finish  it !"  says  he ; 
"  and  crying,  and  patting  me  on  the  shoulder !" 

He  went  on  berating  to  himself,  with  the  whole  of 
us  swaying  in  the  gloom,  and  having  bad  dreams  of 
peace  decfared,  like  two  hundred  cods  in  a  cockpit. 

"  Here  we  are  walking  on  the  water,"  says  he,  "  at 
chambermaids'  wages,  for  the  joy  of  defending  the 
finest  flag  afloat,  when  along  comes  this  gromet- 
rnouthed  gas-vat  to  foul  our  course,  and  bringing  the 
powers  of  Congress  behind  him !  And  he  called  it  a 
rag  to  me  face !"  says  he,  beating  the  rivets  overhead. 

I  heard  five  bells.  The  nigger  and  Bo's'n  Nutt 
competed  with  snores  like  twins.  The  night  was 
escaping  without  drill. 

"Is  the  whole  government  rotten,  and  the  uni 
verse  ? "  says  Brawney ;  "  and  the  President's  message 
wrote  by  some  husky  reporter  that  loafs  at  the  White 
House  gate  ?  And  me  leaving  me  Madeleine  !"  And 
he  pulls  out  a  photograph,  and  tries  to  see  it. 

"  Don't  git  so  honest  ye  think  you  're  the  only  one," 
says  I. 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  51 

""Well,  there  's  me  Madeleine  that  's  square,"  says 
Brawney ;  "  ye  can  lay  to  that.  And  Father  Moore  I 
will  swear  to,  though  no  Catholic ;  and,  bedad,  you 
and  Old  Handsome  would  kick  the  divil,  if  he  come 
with  absolution.  But  the  rest  of  mankind,  I  mistrust, 
would  have  took  the  ten  dollars ;  and  some  of  them 
senators,  too." 

"Have  ye  been  reading  the  i Flash'?77  says  I. 
"And  the  world  but  a  magazine  of  crime,  and  the 
flag  but  for  fools,  by  inference  ?  "• 

"  'T  is  the  finest  flag  since  God  made  bunting !"  says 
Brawney.  "And—"  says  he. 

We  all  heeled  over,  caused  by  the  helm  brought 
hard  to  port.  By  an  instinct  of  hope,  ten  others  and 
BoVn  Nutt  and  me  slid  out  barefoot,  and  ducked  for 
the  hatch. 

The  sea  was  a  lavender  Japanee  crape ;  a  pasty  fog 
picked  its  skirts  across  us,  with  the  moon  shining 
through  like  a  paper  screen.  We  lumbered  the  bit  of 
a  swell  like  a  blind  blue  dripping  shape  of  lead  for 
our  war-paint,  with  our  funnels  daubing  ag'in'  the 
sky  $  and  the  little  six-pounders  sniffed  over  the  berth 
ings,  and  the  big  rifles  stared  with  their  thoughts 
nine  miles  in  space.  She  come  at  a  gathering  gait; 
two  brown  ribbons  streamed  behind,  singing  a  song 
of  sixpence  to  a  sea  that  curled  and  kissed  her  lines 
in  admiration.  Her  pilot-house  rushed  in  a  point  like 
an  arrow,  as  if  she  would  say :  "  I  7m  a  round  nine 
thousand  tons  of  steel,  and  I  ride  by  the  quest  of 
freedom." 

Nutt  asked  me,  and  I  asked  Nutt.  All  we  see  was 
the  Old  Man  making  for  the  bridge.  Clarence  was 


52  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

gazing  ahead  from  the  jack-staff,  in  his  little  square 
coat.  I  give  me  double  cough.  Clarence  stuck  out 
a  thumb  to  the  waters,  and  I  see  a  faint  line  of  bub 
bles—the  wake  of  a  steamer,  not  five  minutes  old. 

"Are  ye  seasick?"  says  the  War  Critic,  over  me 
shoulder.  "  What  is  it  up  ? "  says  he,  seeing  two  order 
lies  dash  for  below.  "What  did  ye  see?"  says  he, 
leaning  with  haste  into  Clarence's  ear. 

"  Keep  that  reporter  abaft  the  davits  !  "  says  a  dark 
voice. 

"  Don't  git  excited !"  worries  the  War  Critic,  with 
Brawney  Thompson  helping  his  retreat.  "  '  Repor 
ter'!  I  '11  black-list  these  jumping- jacks !  "  says  he 
to  me. 

But  I  see  a  torrent  of  silent  legs  up-pouring. 
"  Clear  ship  !  "  says  I  to  meself.  "  Has  the  Old  Man 
found  his  quarry  ? "  says  I,  me  heart  on  a  jig.  I  swal 
lowed  meself  in  the  melee. 

"  Pleasant  to  see  something  doing,"  the  War  Critic 
was  observing,  taking  the  ladder  for  the  upper  deck. 
A  half-dozen  stokers,  risking  their  hides  to  see  what 
was  up  before  they  dropped  down  to  the  boiler-hell, 
come  flying,  and  shouldered  him  up  like  a  hod  of 
plaster.  The  coil  of  a  boat-fall  lowered  away,  and 
carried  his  props  from  under  him.  Somebody  har 
pooned  him  in  the  back  with  a  loose  hatch-batten,  and 
a  crew  of  bare-breasted  spirits  snatched  him  aft  in  the 
bight  of  a  length  of  hose.  In  the  dark,  the  gallop  of 
men  and  marines,  landsmen  and  idlers,  tooth  and  nail, 
like  a  rally  of  ants,  bedazzled  his  wits.  He  slid  for 
home  base  astride  of  a  stream  from  a  two-inch  nozle, 
and  he  chased  himself  up  the  mast  in  the  quiet  of  "all 


YELLOW  BURGEE  53 

divisions  heard  from."     He  met  Brawney  Thompson 
sliding  down  from  the  peak  with  a  smile. 

"  The  finest,  freest  .war-ribbon  that  ever  topped 
God's  green!"  says  Brawney,  looking  back.  "And 
me  a-setting  ye  there,  at  dawn  on  this  day  of  our  Lord 
that  may  God  send  the  enemy !  What  would  me  Mad 
eleine  say  to  that  ? " 

"  Silence !"  went  everywhere. 

"I  had  hopes/7  whispers  the  War  Critic;  "but  7t  is 
only  another  sham." 

Clarence  set  by  the  breech  of  his  piece, .with  his 
eyes  in  the  water.  The  bubbles  had  grown  to,  suds. 

"  I  seen  the  corn-paper  stumps  of  their  cigarettes !" 
whispers  Clarence. 

But  the  crews  of  the  rapid- fires  on  deck  had  seen  no 
suds;  and  worse  in  the  turrets.  7T  was  plain  cold 
feet  and  wet  gratings  and  vituperation  inside,  with 
little  more  on  but  trousers.  "  Have  over,  and  back  to 
our  snores  !"  they  muttered ;  but  there  they  stood,  with 
their  toes  turned  up.  The  boilers  begun  to  growl. 
7T  was  one  bell. 

"  Don't  strike  that  bell !"  says  a  sudden  voice, 

"  Eh  ? 77  says  the  six-pounders,  scared  at  their  rising 
hopes. 

We  took  up  another  two  knots  to  the  hour ;  and  ye 
could  tell  that  below  they  was  shoving  the  soot  to 
beat  the  divil  with  a  new  batch  of  souls,  and  the  oilers 
and  water-tenders  crawling  like  bugs  in  the  belly  of 
a  whale. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  them  fellers  at  the  small  guns  on 
deck  would  git  the  brunt  of  it,77  says  the  War  Critic. 

"  Silence  !'7  says  Bo's'n  Nutt,  from  beneath. 


54  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Silence  !"  says  I,  under  breath,  "for  we  're  attend 
ing  a  wake." 

Which  the  War  Critic  put  in  his  book ;  for  the  color 
of  day  was  bleaching  the  mist  that  shrouded  us,  and 
the  situation  plain  to  all. 

"  'T  will  turn  out  a  Portegee !"  mumbles  Clarence, 
berating  Providence.  "7T  is  always  so  when  we  git 
our  mouths  puckered !" 

"  It  might  be  a  prize,"  says  the  War  Critic,  lighting 
his  cigar,  in  the  face  of  the  regulations,  "  and  money 
coming  to  ye.  They  would  owe  me  some,  too ;  for 
7t  was  action  of  mine  that  thro  wed  us  here,"  says  he, 
smiling  at  his  thoughts. 

"  This  sea-sheriff  business  can  go  to  the  divil,"  says 
Brawney.  "  I  'm  looking  for  a  prize  what  thinks  it 
can  shoot  target  with  Yankee  Doodle." 

"JT  will  be  but  a  'Scotch  man-o'-war'  full  of 
greasers !"  says  Clarence,  doleful  j  "  and  me  grand 
mother  calling  me  a  dove !" 

I  give  a  snort.  Had  the  wind  come  astern  of  the 
funnels  ?  Divil  a  bit  j  but  I  smelt  smoke  with  the  fog. 
Was  it  true,  and  the  craft  ahead  had  crossed  our  bow  ? 

"  What  have  ye  ? "  says  Clarence.  "  Make  no  noses 
at  me  !"  says  he,  in  his  evil  mood. 

"  Smoke  in  the  wind  !"  I  bellered,  believing  me  nos 
trils. 

"  In  the  wind  ? "  says  the  voice-pipe. 

"  In  the  wind,  sir !"  says  I. 

The  War  Critic  laid  down  his  roll  of  bunting— the 
yeller  burgee  of  the  "  Daily  Flash."  I  see  through 
me  glass  the  mist  take  shape,  then  dissolve. 

"  Military  top,  sir !"  I  bawled.  "  Two  points  for'ard 
the  beam  •  no  ship  of  ours,  sir !" 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  55 

Approbations  rose  from  the  deck  in  murmurs. 
"There  was  two  of  them,  then,"  says  every  one,  "for 
the  wake  of  the  other  was  straight  and  fresh."  The 
air  was  thick  with  prayers  that  it  might  not  be  friends. 

"  Two  of  'em  !"  says  the  War  Critic.  "  And  us  stum 
bling  between  'em,  with  colors  set !  Shout  the  warn 
ing!"  says  he. 

We  swung  away  to  put  the  two  in  the  fog  to  port 
of  us,  and  the  starboard  sections  groaned. 

"  The  Old  Man  finds  his  senses,"  says  the  War  Critic. 
"  He  11  be  away  and  from  sight,  and  they  neyer  guess !" 

But  we  took  up  our  course  again.  The  breeze 
waked  up  and  rubbed  the  eyes  of  the  morning,  as 
Brawney  says ;  and  the  fog  swept  clear  for  a  thousand 
yards,  then  for  another  thousand ;  and  then,  like 
thro  wed  on  stereoptican,  it  showed  us  a  big  armored 
cruiser,  with  our  broadside  trained  on  it  like  needles 
on  the  pole.  She  was  asleep,  with  no  colors  shown  j 
and  your  toes  clenched  in  your  boots. 

"  Stick  up  your  rag !"  says  Clarence,  shaking  his  fist ; 
for  the  marks  of  the  breed  stood  out  on  every  stitch 
of  her.  "  Have  ye  nothing  but  hind  legs,  ye  bull-rag 
ging  beast?"  says  he. 

'T  was  as  though  she  heard,  for  she  let  out  a  scream 
like  a  nightmare  5  and  our  steam  siren  yelled  for  water 
tight  doors. 

"  What  ? "  says  the  War  Critic.  "  Hear  the  answer- 
in  g  toots  in  the  fog !  Don't  he  know 't  is  the  first  art 
of  war  not  to  fight  with  superior  force  ? " 

"  Ship  ahoy !  What  ship  is  that  1 "  says  the  Old  Man, 
speaking  across  her  bows  through  our  for'ard  five-inch 
rifle.  They  was  flying  up  and  down  her  decks  like 
rats,  and  she  edged  away  toward  the  fog. 


56  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Ship  ahoy,  there  !  What  ship  is  that  1 "  roars  the 
Old  Man,  tapping  a  hole  through  the  fandango's 
funnel. 

I  see  the  flag  of  the  enemy  break  from  her  peak, 
and  a  dozen  juts  of  smoke  from  her  side.  A  howl  of 
delight  arose  to  me  ears,  and  the  sea  splashed  up  like 
a  school  of  whales.  Our  eights  and  half  our  fives 
was  up  and  away  with  the  bugle-blast,  with  the  six- 
pounders  barking  at  their  heels ;  and  the  sun  jumped 
out  of  the  night,  with  its  chin  on  the  sky-line,  to  see 
what  the  divil  was  doing.  It  see  the  moon  as  pale  as 
a  shirt,  and  the  fog  skedaddling  with  its  petticoats 
up,  and  hell's  tune  playing  'twixt  two  little  specks  at 
sea,  with  me  and  Brawney  and  Clarence  and  the  War 
Critic  hung  in  a  bowl  in  the  sky.  Clarence  was  curs 
ing  with  the  finest  freedom  ye  ever  hear,  for  he  was 
out  of  range.  The  War  Critic  stood  hold  of  the  mast, 
biting  his  teeth,  and  his  eyes  in  a  stare.  Brawney 
stood  ready  to  serve,  with  a  gaze  and  a  smile ;  and 
he  looked  up  at  the  flag  standing  sharp  to  the  breeze, 
where  he  put  it,  and  he  laughed  and  slapped  his  thigh. 
Never  such  joy  I  Ve  known  in  the  forty  years  since  me 
mother's  lap.  Natural  lust  of  destruction  flying  loose 
in  me  heart ;  bottled  and  corked  essence  of  peace-drill 
and  peace-subordination,  bedad,  and  peace-idleness  of 
twenty  years'  cruising,  dropped,  with  a  rifle-crack,  like 
a  cangue  from  off  me  neck.  The  sides  of  me  brain 
worked  separate  together.  "  Let  it  exude,"  says  the 
one,  "  free !  —free  's  a  balloon !"  And  the  other 
howled : 

"Gunboat  coming  out  of  the  fog,  sir— enemy's 
flag!" 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  57 

The  Old  Man  and  his  mate  stood  like  the  rear  of  an 
observation-car,  roaring  remarks  in  each  other's  ears. 
The  hot  light  of  day  rode  the  bare  backs  along  the 
berthing  till  each  man  steamed  like  a  horse  on  ice. 
We  was  easing  the  gap  between  us  and  the  foe,  and 
her  consort  hovering  down  to  the  region  of  six-inch 
remonstrance,  and  landing  by  luck  with  a  shell  through 
our  armor-belt  that  sent  the  carpenter  sprinting  for 
the  protective  deck  with  nine  kinds  of  patches.  A 
six-pounder  went  through  me  hair,  I  thought;  and 
the  War  Critic  felt  it,  and  kneeled  down  to  the  trap, 
staring  at  the  deck  fifty  feet  below.  But  he  got  up 
again,  and  jammed  his  helmet  over  his  eyes. 

"  The  coal-bunkers  was  the  place  to  be,"  he  says  to 
himself. 

"  Nineteen  hundred  yards  !"  yells  Fergus  of  Oregon, 
his  head  through  the  trap. 

Clarence  stopped  his  profanity.  By  the  holy  pow 
ers,  I  see  the  two  corners  of  his  mouth  from  the  back 
of  his  head,  and  he  had  no  nerves.  He  settled  as 
quick  to  the  breech  of  his  piece  as  a  squalling  baby 
put  to  the  breast,  and  he  took  aim  like  wiping  the  rim 
of  your  glass  with  a  doily  before  ye  swig  your  beer ; 
and  we  never  heard  no  more  from  him  but  the  smell 
of  saltpeter.  The  air  whistled  like  a  typhoon,  and 
there  was  Fergus,  still  with  his  head  and  shoulders 
through,  his  chin  on  his  breast,  like  thinking. 

"  My  God !"  says  the  War  Critic,  drawing  away  from 
Fergus. 

We  all  howled,  for  we  see  the  gunboat  doubled  up 
with  an  eight-inch  shell  in  her  brain,  and  not  knowing 
where  to  go.  The  big  fandango  landed  in  our  for'ard 


58  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

torpedo-flat,  and  knocked  a  Whitehead  into  watch, 
works,  and  blowed  an  ensign  off  the  navy-register. 

"She  's  on  fire  in  the  quarters,  sir!"  I  yelled  with 
one  eye.  With  the  other  I  seen  'em  discumbering 
Fergus  from  the  trap.  He  had  n't  no  legs.  The  War 
Critic  gazed  at  him  dumb,  the  photograph-box  askew 
on  his  back.  A  shower  of  hot  commas  exploded  under 
my  jaw. 

"Bedad,  they  're  loading  with  barbed-wire  fence  !" 
says  Brawney,  observing  the  flesh-cuts  on  him  and 
me ;  "  and  they  've  tore  out  a  gap  in  the  list  of  junior 
grade  in  the  after-turret;  and  there  's  White  Olsen 
keeled  over  and  bit  a  piece  from  an  officer's  shoe." 

"  Enemy's  stern  caved  in  by  a  shell,  sir !  Enemy's 
squadron  approaching  ahead— three  ships  !"  says  I. 

Our  port  anchor-davit  arose  off  the  deck  at  the  news, 
and  jumped  into  the  sea,  with  a  solid  shot  behind  j 
and  I  thought  the  War  Critic  would  dive  after  it. 

"  Look  here ;  ain't  we  got  enough  ? "  says  he,  clutch 
ing  Clarence's  shoulder  with  sharp  finger-nails.  But 
Clarence  thought  it  was  a  wound,  and  would  pay  no 
attention.  "Man,  man,"  says  the  War  Critic,  "leave 
'em  alone— leave  'em  alone  !" 

The  big  fandango  was  winded  a  bit,  or  her  tail- 
feathers  broke,  for  she  slowed  and  swung.  The  Old 
Man  smiled.  We  started  all  steam  to  cross  her  bow 
—to  run  'tween  her  and  her  mate,  for  the  love  of 
raking  her  fore  and  aft,  though  the  two  of  'em 
snatched  us  bald.  "  There  's  three  fresh  craft  a- vom 
iting  smoke  behind,"  says  I.  "The  excitement  of 
battle  is  about  to  begin,"  says  I,  freeing  me  face  of 
nose-bleed ;  and  I  laughed  such  a  divil's  own  joy  of  a 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  59 

laugh  as  ye  can't  brew  the  liquor  to  bring.  A  hot 
shot  went  between  Clarence  and  his  elbow. 

"  Did  ye  find  me  card  beneath  your  hammick  door  ? " 
yells  Clarence,  like  a  row  in  a  tenement.  "  Take  that, 
ye  yeller  baboons  !  " 

"  1 711  give  ye  a  hundred  dollars  to  jam  your  breech ; 
they  must  leave  us  alone !"  says  the  War  Critic,  fan 
ning  the  air  with  a  hand-load  of  bills  for  the  second 
time  in  Clarence's  face.  Clarence  took  the  wad,  and 
fed  it  into  the  breech  of  his  piece ;  and  the  next  five 
shots  cost  the  "Daily  Flash"  twenty  dollars  apiece; 
and  Clarence  went  right  on. 

So  we  shot  the  rapids,  starboard  and  port,  great 
guns  and  small,  Bo's'n  Nutt  and  Clarence  O'Shay,  at 
nineteen  knots  for  the  other  world.  I  says  good-by 
to  meself.  I  says,  "Some  angel  will  be  walking  ye 
by  the  ear  in  a  minute,  and  there  's  an  awkward  thing 
or  two  he  '11  be  asking  ye  about.  What?"  says  I. 
"  Are  we  afloat  ?  That  Js  the  nigger  down  there  with 
his  leg  broke  ;  and  Clarence's  scalp  has  a  piece  stick 
ing  up  like  the  door  of  a  spider ;  and  the  War  Critic 
has  a  vaccination  on  his  arm,  but  too  busy  counting 
his  sins  to  know  it ;  and,  bedad,  we  're  afloat !" 

"  Git  away !"  says  Clarence,  straining  to  train  the 
three-pounder  astern. 

There  come  a  yell  from  the  lower  top.  A  gasp  of 
joy,  and  some  stripes  of  red  passed  over  me  eyes. 
'T  was  the  colors,  brought  down  by  the  breaking  of 
the  block  j  and 't  was  the  War  Critic  clutching  it,  haul 
ing  it  in  like  the  divil  after  your  soul. 

«  We  've  struck  !  We  've  saved  our  skins !"  he  says, 
falling  on  the  flag  to  hide  it. 


60  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Did  ye  ever  hear  Yankee  Doodle  roar  when  a  tuft 
of  his  feathers  was  pulled  ?  I  heard  a  shout  as  big  as 
North  America.  .Me  and  Clarence  and  the  bloody 
crew  of  Bo's'n  Nutt  collided  in  a  bunclj ;  but  we  was 
all  behind.  The  War  Critic  laid  jerking  in  the  ruins 
of  his  tackle.  'T  was  Brawney  Thompson  that  shinned 
the  bare  pole,  .with  the  bunting  in  his  teeth,  and  a 
thousand  yells  to  boost  him.  A  flight  of  flying  iron 
went  whistling  by,  and  for  an  answer  the  forty-five 
stars  stood  stiff  to  the  breeze.  Brawney  gripped  the 
pole.  He  turned  his  face  and  looked  down  strange  in 
me  eye,  and  me  and  Clarence  went  up  after  him.  We 
all  slid  back -in. a  heap,  and  we  set  Brawney  ag'in'  the 
mast,  and  tore  his  shirt  apart,  his  head  rolling  like  an 
apple  on  its  stem.  The  little  sky-terrier  begun  bark 
ing  again  in  the  hands  of  a  new  detail — six  of  us 
crammed  in  a  space  fit  for  three ;  and  I  could  n't  hear 
what  Brawney  was.  trying  to  tell.  The  seconds  went 
by  in  a  daze,  and  we  could  n't  see  nothing  to  do.  Then 
the  bugle  blowed,  and  a  howling  din  of  silence  beat 
on  your  brain  to  break  your  heart.  I  put  me  ear  to 
Brawn ey's  mouth ;  but  all  I  hear  was  the  tinkle  of  the 
nigger  with  his  broken  leg,  in  the  top  below,  and  his 
infant  banjo,  to  the  tune : 

The  first  I  knew  I  had  me  heart,  I  found  it  in  me  throat, 
To  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  at  Guan-ta-wa-mo. 

"I  '11  give  ten  dollars  for  a  flask  of  liquor !"  says 
the  War  Critic.  "I  7ve  got  to  git  down  from  here, 
somehow !"  says  he. 

We  heard  a  boom  away  astern.  Brawney  opened 
his  eyes. 

"  Commenced  again  ? "  says  he. 


THE  YELLOW  BURGEE  61 

"  The  fandango  has  blowed  up  her  small-arms  mag. 
azine,  I  judge,"  says  I;  "and  her  mates  galloping  to 
hold  her  head  out  of 'water." 

"Fandango  blowed  up !"  says  Brawney,  with  the 
end  of  a  smile.  "  Lemme  'See— lemme  see  !  Ah/'  he 
says,  "your  glass  is  all  fog !  I  can't  see  a  blank  thing ! 
But  that  's  the  flag !"  he  says,  his  head  reeling  back. 
"Well,  it  ain't  no  rag,  is  it?  And  only  a  minute  ago 
—and  what  would  me  Madeleine  say  to  that?" 

Then  he  did  n't  speak.no  more :  and  't  was  the  first 

JT  ;...,.,,-. 

time  I  ever  see  Clarence  afraid. 

t  *       •**'•  •»*<**•  *?•""•<'»  vv-. 
We  laid  Brawney  down'  on  a  six-pounder  grating, 

wrapped  in  a  flag,  with  the  rest.  The  Old  Man  tight 
ened  his  lips  to  look  at  him.  The  War  Critic,  in  the 
wreck  of  his  helmet,  come  out  of  the  mast,  hanging  to 
what  he  could,  gazing  at  the  seams  in  the  deck. 

"  Here  's  a  bit  of  bunting  found  in  the  top,  sir,"  says 
the  mate  to  the  Old  Man ;  and  he  unrolls  the  yeller 
burgee  of  the  "  Daily  Flash." 

"I  want  to  see  you,  sir!"  says  the  Old  Man,  fixed 
on  the  War  Critic  like  two  eight-inch  guns. 

The  War  Critic  straightened  himself  a  bit,  and 
raised  his  head.  There  was  two  hundred  half -naked 
men  facing  him  with  folded  arms,  and  no  place  for 
him  to  look. 

"  Mr.  Chyne,"  says  the  Old  Man,  "  wrap  the  body  of 
Brawney  Thompson  in  the  same  flag  he  rescued  from 
this  man  Kuhlamar.  When  Thompson  goes  into  the 
sea,  let  the  flag  go  with  him.  Mr.  Kuhlamar,  if  the 
enemy  had  been  shooting  more  to  the  gain  of  the 
United  States,  and  less  to  its  loss,"  says  the  Old  Man, 
"I  would  be  heaving  you  overboard— bagged  in  your 
own  quarantine  rag,  which  is  the  symbol  of  your  soul." 


62  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

I  see  five  little  specks  away  in  our  wake,  under  a 
pall  of  smoke.  I  see  Buck  Williams,  propped  ag'in' 
the  berthing,  in  tears,  and  his  banjo  with  a  broken 
string.  I  thought  of  Brawney's  Madeleine— she  and 
him  in  the  light  of  a  lamp  at  home,  with  their  heads 
together  over  the  speech  that  the  congressman  did  n't 
write. 

"The  first  I  knew  I  had  me  heart,  I  found  it  in  me  throat ! " 

says  I,  with  me  eyes  on  the  flag  at  the  peak.     "  And 
what  will  his  Madeleine  say  to  that  f " 


THE   TRANSIT   OF   GLORIA   MUNDY 


THE    TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY 


E  friend  Clarence  O'Shay  was  not 
especial  for  his  beauty;  but  for 
character— and  't  was  the  chaplain 
himself  said  it— O'Shay  would  cele 
brate  himself  as  frequent  as  not. 
For  once  I  remember  a  loud-howl 
ing  thunder-storm  at  Norfolk,  one  night,  and  me  and 
Clarence  setting  ashore  in  Handy  Billy's  Retreat,  when 
all  at  once  was  a  soul-splitting  broadside  of  lightning, 
and  Clarence  rose  up  in  the  middle  of  his  drink,  and 
went  outside,  saying  never  a  word.  And  after  several 
minutes  I  missed  his  not  coming  back,  and  I  went  out 
to  find  him  in  the  pouring  rain.  And  across  the  street, 
in  a  flash  that  lit  up  the  whole  United  States,  I  see 
little  Clarence  with  his  two  hands  above  his  head— 
ahold  of  a  lightning-rod.  "What  are  ye  there  for, 
all  wet  ? "  says  I.  "  Sure,  't  is  the  divil's  own  attack 
of  lightning,"  says  he,  gripping  the  rod  like  a  dying 
straw ;  "  and  I  '11  take  no  chance  to  be  hit.  For  what 
is  the  use  of  them  safety  devices,"  says  he,  "  if  no  one 
will  use  them  ? "  And  he  never  let  go,  if  ye  kicked 
and  explained  and  wept  with  him  till  morning.  It 
was  then,  as  in  his  affair  with  his  heart  between  him 
and  Miss  Mundy,  that  his  character  stood  out  on  him 
like  the  comb  on  a  cock. 
5  65 


C6  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

His  affair  of  his  heart  was  up  North.  Ye  can  still 
see  the  spot,  no  doubt,  like  a  bear  with  a  patch  of  its 
wool  off.  7T  is  on  a  mountain -side  four  miles  or 
more  from  Baranoff  Castle,  to  port  at  the  entrance 
of  Silver  Bay. 

>T  was  one  Sunday,  laying  at  Sitka,  and  an  old  man 
come  over  the  side  with  a  look  like  the  taste  of  bad 
medicine.  A  small  pocket  church  organ  was  under 
his  arm,  and  hymn-books,  too ;  and  his  face  all  whis 
kers  and  hair.  He  give  a  black  smile  at  the  crew,  as 
to  say,  "  ;T  is  a  foul  lot  of  cattle  ye  are  !"  and  he  went 
below.  They  was  rapping  the  ship's  bell  for  services  j 
and  young  Tommy,  the  jolliest  chaplain  that  ever 
shirked  his  prayers,  says  he  to  me :  "  'T  is  his  own  new 
religion,  invented  by  the  old  man  himself  j  and  neither 
Christian,  Mohammedan,  Buddhist,  nor  pagan  it  is, 
but  a  deal  of  each— all  dovetailed.  And  by  Michel 
angelo,"  says  the  chaplain,— 't  was  before  the  depart 
ment  sent  him  his  resignation  for  being  such  favorites 
with  women,  — " by  Michelangelo,"  says  he,  "the  old 
man's  daughter  is  the  handsomest  north  of  Cape 
Flattery !" 

And  me  and  O'Shay  disappeared  in  the  wake  of  the 
chaplain,  and  we  found  on  the  torpedo-flat  the  old 
man  unlashing  his  church  organ  and  shaking  out  its 
toes ;  and  there,  setting  on  a  hand-pump,  we  come  sud 
den  on  his  daughter,  like  the  unveiling  of  a  statue. 
Her  eyes  was  India  ink,  and  her  face  the  dimensions 
of  a  plum,  with  skin  like  ten  dollars  in  gold. 

"  'T  is  half  Siwash  and  half  Yankee  trader  ye  are," 
says  I  to  meself ;  "  and  with  them  eyes  ye  could  nail 
a  common  man  to  his  doom."  And  she  set  like  an  ele- 


THE  TRANSIT  OF   GLORIA  MUNDY  67 

gant  firefly  in  the  middle  of  darkness,  till  every  man 
present,  and  likewise  the  marines,  stood  mesmerized 
in  his  shoes ;  for  she  was  dressed  out  all  flying  with 
colors,  slick  as  parade.  She  inspected  us  freely,  and 
no  more  scared  than  a  baby ;  but  none  would  provoke 
her  but  Clarence  O'Shay,  which  was  the  rawest  of  the 
company;  and  a  little  squat  carroty  squab  he  was, 
with  his  two  running  lights  blinking  like  bats. 

"Will  ye  steady  the  hymn-book?"  says  the  girl, 
smiling,  and  pointing  plumb  at  O'Shay.  We  was  all 
worrying  at  the  fine  lines  of  her,  that  was  like  the  fig 
ure  8 ;  but  snicker  we  must,  for  Clarence's  face  dropped 
open,  and  his  mouth  give  vent  to  a  smile  of  dismay. 

With  that  she  begun  disturbing  the  organ,  till  it 
groaned : 

Shall  we  gather  at  the  river 
Where  bright  angel  feet  has  trod? 

And  the  old  man  bellered  out  to  beat  it  if  he  could, 
with  some  of  the  crew  bearing  a  hand,  especially  at 
the  tail  of  a  verse.  And  Clarence  must  crowd  the 
sleeve  of  the  girl  to  hold  quiet  the  music,  though  the 
breeze  through  the  ports  was  impalpable.  In  the 
middle  of  each  verse  I  see  her  casting  her  black  eyes 
at  his  countenance,  which  would  wink  as  if  dazzled ; 
and  I  noticed  her  fancy  more  pleased  with  the  growly 
notes  beneath  O'Shay  than  them  piping  ones  to  lee 
ward. 

Next,  the  old  man  stood  aiming  his  finger,  shouting, 
"  Ye  're  all  black-hearted  sinners  !"  which  was  the  start 
of  the  finest  sermon  I  ever  hear.  "Ye  're  all  black 
hearted  sinners,"  he  roared,  "  and  your  souls  wallow- 


68  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

ing  in  the  luxury  of  corruption,  and  every  son  of  ye 
worm-eaten  with  the  leprosy  of  Satan !"  And  with 
that  he  bore  down  on  us  like  the  Spanish  Armadillo, 
shouting  the  catalogue  of  sins,  and  calling  us  blue, 
black,  and  red  rascals  to  your  heart's  content. 

But  the  girl  was  leaning  back  in  her  seat,  with  Clar 
ence  O'Shay  and  the  organ  and  the  howling  of  the 
sermon  as  obsolete  as  twenty  miles  away;  and  her 
eyes  was  half  closed,  thinking  to  'emselves,  with  a  bit 
of  anxiety  riding  her  brow,  like  a  flaw  on  a  pool.  Till 
the  old  man  give  a  shout  that  spent  his  wind,  and  the 
girl  bolted  up,  observing  O'Shay,  as  I  says  to  meself, 
with  a  trifle  of  female  calculation ;  and  she  worried 
the  organ  to  "  The  Sweet  By  and  By,"  with  newfan 
gled  words  to  it.  And  him  leaning  over  and  hiding 
the  music  with  his  billet  of  a  thumb,  and  her  demure 
as  a  dove,  but  singing  it  now  and  again  across  his 
face,  till  I  cocked  me  ears.  And  at  the  end  I  seen  her 
bidding  good-bys  to  him  on  deck,  and  wringing  hands 
with  him.  The  old  man  stopped  and  scowled  back 
at  the  crew,  as  to  say,  "  ;T  is  maggots  ye  are  !"  Then 
he  pursues  her  over  the  side,  with  his  hand-organ. 

Clarence  O'Shay  run  up  the  mast  with  a  spy-glass, 
and  followed  the  girl  over  town  till  she  hid  herself 
with  the  copper-green  church.  "  Hist,  man  !"  says  he, 
making  beckons  with  his  hands.  "Lay  up  here." 
And  with  us  two  hanging  like  parrots  aloft,  he  whis 
pers  in  me  ear. 

"  'T  is  a  secret  I  have  to  tell  ye,"  says  he,  "  and  no 
one  shall  know  it  but  me.  Ye  mind  when  I  leaned 
forninst  her  shoulder  ?  She  was  talking  and  singing 
in  me  ear  the  while!  When  it  was  the  first  song, 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  69 

says  she  in  the  middle  of  it,  singing  along  with  the 
rest,  but  her  eyes  rolled  up  at  the  beams  like  innocent 
questions  : 

'Shall  we  gather  at  the  river?' 

says  she.  And  several  times  she  sang  it  that  way ; 
and  I  thought  I  see  her  laugh  in  her  sleeve,  till  I 
chewed  on  it  when  the  old  man  was  ventilating  his 
belief.  Then  it  was  l  The  Sweet  By  and  By/  with  all 
hands  going  as  ye  please  in  the  chorus,  and  she  belt 
ing  the  little  music-box  to  beat  the  band.  When 
every  one  was  crying : 

'We  shall  meet— we  shall  meet ! ' 

—as  best  I  remember  it— bedad,  at  the  same  time  she 
was  singing  with  a  quarter  of  a  glance  past  me  face : 

'  We  shall  meet— we  shall  meet ! ' 
Then  next  all  the  rest  of  them  let  go : 
'  We  shall  mee-ee-eet ! ' 

paying  it  out  slow,  but  hanging  on  to  it ;  and  the  old 
man  took  it  up  by  its  middle,  and  says,  as  though  it 
was  settled: 

'  We  shall  meet— we  shall  meet ! ' 

—till  they  all  did  meet  at  the  end  of  it,  and  they  says, 
all  heaving  together : 

1  We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore  ! ' 


70  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

But,  bedad,  the  girl  she  let  go  both  eyes  at  the  beams 
to  onc't,  and  she  sings  nothing  in  me  ear  but : 

'  Tuesday  night  on  that  Injun  River  shore  ! ' 

And  at  parting  says  she :  <  Ye  '11  soon  forget  the  words 
ye  heard  this  morning  ? '  With  that  she  gimme  a  look 
with  wide  eyes,  and  went  overboard.  What  do  ye 
make  of  it  ?  "  says  Clarence. 

So  I  went  to  Chaplain  Tommy,  that  was  smoking 
his  cigar. 

" Handsome  she  is,"  says  he,  agreeing,  "and  deep- 
running  water,  too— neither  pious  nor  heathen,  but 
the  riddle  of  the  Phenix.  Her  father  with  the  organ 
is  a  bachelor,  and  it  happened  by  accident.  For  Gloria 
was  the  daughter  of  Bald  Eagle,  that  ruled  near  by 
Chilcat ;  and  then  old  Mundy  was  living  to  himself  at 
Sitka,  being  a  landmark  there  before  the  purchase, 
and  coming  from  where  no  one  knows.  A  strange 
man  he  was,  with  his  will-power  stronger  than  his  self- 
control,  and  mainly  content  to  be  pope  and  prophet 
of  his  own  religion,  and  paddle  his  canoe,  ten  days  to 
a  cruise.  Then  along  comes  a  Yankee  to  Chilcat,  and 
makes  a  hole  in  the  nest  of  Bald  Eagle ;  and  when 
Bald  Eagle  finds  it  out,  he  makes  a  hole  in  the  Yan 
kee,  big  as  the  moon.  Till  Bald  Eagle  gits  word  that 
a  sergeant-marine  is  coming  to  chase  him,  and  he  ups 
and  starts  to  meet  the  marine ;  which  the  bluebottle, 
by  virtue  of  having  ten  mates  with  him,  drops  the  old 
Eagle  overboard  into  the  tide  from  his  canoe.  Then, 
by  a  happy  disaster,"  says  the  chaplain,  "  along  comes 
old  Mundy,  nosing  to  himself  through  the  Straits,  and 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  71 

P 

overhauls  the  empty  canoe,  that  was  full  of  war-truck 
and  a  small  baby  girl.  "T  is  a  special  dispensation  !' 
says  he,  and  he  named  her  Gloria ;  and,  as  well  as  ye 
can  raise  a  pansy  to  blossom  for  a  lily,  he  raised  the 
girl.  'For  me  daughter/  he  would  say,  'will  bring 
the  true  religion  back  to  them  Injuns,  and  all  over  the 
universe— to  the  glory  of  the  world/  says  he.  'And 
when  I  die,  all  mine  is  hers,  with  privilege  to  marry 
at  thirty,  which  is  soon  as  women  have  sense.'  For 
the  girl  but  last  year  would  be  running  away  with  a 
half-breed,  and  the  old  man  tore  the  side  of  the  Injun's 
head  with  a  slug  from  his  shot-gun,  to  the  disappear 
ance  of  him  ever  since.  And  some  say  she  mourns 
him  still,  and  many  would  sympathize  with  her,  but 
the  old  man  won't  let  'em  set  foot  in  the  garden." 

Then  me  and  O'Shay  took  verdict  of  what  she  had 
said,  and  Tuesday  evening  we  went  on  the  road  wind 
ing  back  of  the  town.  'T  is  an  elegant  spot,  and  damp 
beneath  the  trees  as  a  bog ;  and  ye  scarce  drop  your 
hat  but  a  toadstool  hops  up  there  and  grows  on  its 
brim.  'T  was  eight  o'clock,  with  the  sun  in  that  lati 
tude  fifteen  degrees  in  the  sky.  Six  hundred  yards 
from  civilization  we  spied  two  females,  setting  with 
their  eyes  in  the  river,  as  if  nothing  would  happen. 
And  says  O'Shay  good  evening  to  'em. 

"  Eh  ? "  says  she— for  it  was  she.  "  Oh !"  says  she, 
overhauling  her  mind.  "  It 's  the  same  I  met  on  ship 
board.  How  happen  ye  here  ? " 

"How!"  says  O'Shay.  "Sure,  I  'm  'gathering  on 
the  shore.'  For  '  we  shall  meet/ "  says  he ;  "  *  we  shall 
meet!'" 

"  I  don't  know  what  ye  mean,"  says  Gloria,  looking 


72  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

off  as  blank  as  a  bowl  of  milk.  "  But 't  is  a  pleasant 
evening  here." 

"  Sure,"  says  O'Shay.  "  And  have  the  elegance  of 
taking  this  box  of  candy,  with  the  pleasure  of  me  com 
pliments." 

And  I  noticed  the  other  girl,  that  was  full  Siwash, 
with  a  face  to  beat  the  rhinoceros,  had  drawn  to  one 
side,  leaving  the  occasion  to  itself ;  and  I  went  off  be 
hind  a  tree  and  smoked  me  pipe,  while  Clarence  was 
searching  his  wits. 

"  'T  is  a  fine  evening,  as  you  was  saying,"  says  Gloria, 
with  a  trace  of  a  smile,  as  though  he  was  comic. 

"Sure,"  says  O'Shay,  a  bit  lacking  for  remarks, 
"  and  pleasant,  too,"  says  he.  And  for  a  while  I  hear 
him  scratching  his  head. 

"Three  weeks  from  now  will  be  full  moon,"  says 
he,  all  at  once.  And  then  for  some  time  I  hear  'em 
staring  at  each  other. 

"  Are  ye  married  at  home  ? "  says  Gloria,  by  and  by. 
"  For  men  that  has  wives  already  should  not  be  giving 
sweets  to  the  girls." 

"Married!"  says  O'Shay,  overdoing  himself. 
"  Would  I  wear  a  ring  in  me  nose  ? " 

"  Every  man  should  be  married,"  says  she,  stiffen 
ing  up  j  "  and  one  that  scoffs  at  it  is  riot  usual  the  best 
in  intentions.  I  must  go,  for  I  notice  me  brother 
coming,  that  would  take  it  hard  seeing  us.  Good-by, 
Mr.  Sailor,  and  don't  speak  of  this.  For  me  father  is 
that  jealous  of  me  as  his  soul,"  says  she,  with  disgust 
in  her  voice,  "  and  me  kept  penned  away  like  a  sacri 
fice,  and  me  own  house  a  stranger  to  even  me  brother. 
The  first  clear  coast  I  ever  had  was  next  Friday,  when 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  73 

me  father  is  witness  at  court.  Don't  say  that  I  noticed 
a  stranger,  though  me  father's  hard  heart  be  me  ample 
excuse.  Good-by,"  says  she;  "and  a  better  respect 
for  women  come  to  ye  soon ;  for  maybe  till  then  I 
won't  expect  to  see  ye." 

And  with  that  she  skipped  off  to  the  other  girl, 
twice  as  light  as  ye  >d  think  for  the  strength  of  her 
build.  Soon  she  come  past  with  the  one  she  says  was 
her  brother.  And  the  Injun,  that  was  a  broad-shoul 
dered  buck  with  hands  like  an  oiler's,  and  nifty -look 
ing,  save  the  scar  on  his  cheek,  would  stare  at  O'Shay 
till  little  Clarence  was  hurting  to  reach  up  and  biff 
him.  We  walked  back,  sifting  the  conversation,  till 
I  says  to  O'Shay,  bedad,  that  the  girl  was  defending 
marriage  to  him,  and  to  see  her  next  Friday.  And 
Clarence  says  that  if  it  was  marrying,  why,  he  had 
nothing  to  lose  by  it ;  which  was  true,  for  he  had  no 
thing  belonging  to  him  but  his  pipe  and  his  next 
month's  pay. 

"'T  is  an  elegant  creature  it  is!"  says  Clarence  to 
himself.  And  he  spoke  the  same  in  his  sleep  from  his 
hammick.  And  all  the  next  day  he  had  absence  of 
his  mind,  till  I  kept  telling  him  he  was  in  love ;  and 
Clarence  would  ask  was  he,  sure  ?  And  it  tickled  him 
like  a  young  mother.  On  Friday  forenoon  he  give 
his  head  to  the  barber  to  fix  it  for  the  lady  of  his 
choice  _till  he  looked  like  the  light-weight  champion. 

"  I  dreamt  of  a  cottage  home,  all  crowded  with  vic 
tuals  and  beer,"  says  he,  smelling  of  bay-rum  to  drive 
ye  to  drink.  "  And  I  '11  leave  the  navy  when  married ; 
for,  with  that  face  asking  it,  she  could  git  me  a  job  as 
police." 


74  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Then  we  off  to  Gloria's  house,  and  I  waited  in  the 
garden,  thinking  with  me  pipe,  and  asking  meself 
what  a  fine-flavored  lass  like  Miss  Mundy  would  want 
with  a  squab  like  O'Shay.  Till  I  seen  coming  the 
Injun  with  the  scar,  and  give  warning,  and  none  too 
soon ;  for  the  Injun  found  Clarence  exuding  from  the 
house,  and  would  be  staring  in  Clarence's  eye  that 
hard  that  Clarence  believed  it  his  duty  to  do  him  up, 
since  sooner  or  later  a  fight  must  be,  the  Injun  being 
his  brother-in-law.  But  Gloria  whispered  the  Injun 
inside,  and  she  blushed  till  I  says  to  meself  it  was  not 
her  brother  at  all,  but  was  the  same  that  would  carry 
her  off  last  year.  But  what  Clarence  told  going  ship- 
wards  took  it  from  me  mind. 

"  'T  is  an  elegant  creature  it  is  !"  says  he ;  "  and  her 
name  will  be  Mrs.  O'Shay.  When  I  knocked  she  was 
playing  the  organ  for  i  Pat-says-he- what-says-h e- 
where's-me-old-hat-says-he'— till  me  feet  near  run  off 
in  a  jig ;  but  when  she  heard  the  knock,  and  the  rhi 
noceros-faced  Siwash  girl  opened  the  door,  she  dis 
solved  to  the  hymn  called  i  Revive  us  onc't  more,'  as 
though  a  mistake  had  been  made.  i  Oh,  't  is  but  you  !' 
says  Gloria,  all  setting  in  the  latest  millinery.  1 1  sup 
posed  't  was  me  father  come  to  blow  me  up/  says  she, 
1  for  I  thought  I  'd  seen  the  last  of  you.7  <  'T  is  me/ 
says  Ij  'and  you  not  married  yet?'  'Not  yet/  says 
she,  laughing,  and  playing  the  jig;  'for  it  needs  a 
brave  man ;  one/  says  she,  '  that  can  paddle  his  canoe 
by  night,  and  not  afraid  of  me  father  with  his  gun.' 
1 T  is  me  that  's  not/  says  I ;  *  and  name  your  time.' 
And  with  that  she  hit  a  few  sounds,  and  stopped  short. 
1  Will  ye  take  me  to  Silver  Bay  by  midnight/  says  she, 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  75 

as  if  struck  by  a  big  idea,  *  and  fetch  me  the  chaplain 
of  the  ship,  with  his  book,  to  marry  me?'  'I  will!' 
says  I.  And  with  that  we  begun  to  talk ;  and  she  says 
how  she  knowed  't  was  the  man  for  the  purpose  the 
first  time  she  seen  me." 

Then  I  spoke  to  the  chaplain  for  'em. 

"  What !"  says  he.  "  Her  marry  an  ass  like  O'Shay ! 
Ye  're  a  badly  implausible  man,  Sudd  Lannigan; 
and  a  loose-fitting  tailor  to  the  truth  ye  are  !" 

"Upon  me  heart,  sir,"  says  I,  bowing,  "'t  is  so." 

"  Then,"  says  Tommy,  pleased  at  the  chance,  "  I  '11 
go  talk  to  her." 

And  with  considerable  waylaying  I  negotiated  'em 
together  that  evening,  with  the  chaplain  rigged  out  in 
his  shore  clothes,  with  his  collar  that  high  that  his 
toes  would  scarce  touch  the  ground.  But  Miss  Gloria 
was  timorous,  and  she  would  not  speak  the  name  of 
O'Shay,  gazing  at  the  ground  till  ye  thought  she  was 
six  years  old,  and  saying  that  yes,  her  choice  had  been 
made. 

"  And  most  uncommon  sudden,"  says  the  chaplain  ; 
"  and  a  bad  sign  for  happiness.  And  your  father  will 
disinherit  ye." 

"  Let  him  do  it !"  says  she,  flaring  up  as  though  ye 
had  scratched  a  match.  "  Let  him  do  it,  and  give  his 
money  to  save  the  Chinese  !  Do  ye  think  I  '11  live  me 
life  like  this?  I  'm  nothing  but  a  nun,— the  whole 
town  knows  it,— and  his  house  nothing  but  a  con 
vent,"  says  she,  "  and  him  a  keeper  that  won't  lemme 
say  me  soul  's  me  own.  I  can't  go  walk  with  a  girl 
but  he  says 't  is  improper.  If 't  was  no  hope  of  better, 
I  'd  drownd  meself  in  the  sea !  What  chance  for  a 


76  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

human  life  have  I,  with  praying  from  morning  till 
night,  in  words  all  guttural  to  me,  and  only  hymns 
on  the  organ  to  please  him,  and  pretending  to  fast  for 
the  good  of  me  soul  I  What  is  his  heathens  to  me— 
why,  as  good  as  him !  And  better  than  me,  that  is 
neither  one  nor  the  other,  but  just  a  young  girl  that 
would  wish  onc't  a  while  to  laugh  on  Saturday  night, 
and  have  gentlemen  friends,  and  dance  a  bit,  and  be 
like  the  young  ladies  below  in  the  States.  I  '11  leave 
him  and  his  money,  if  it  breaks  his  hard  old  pagan 
heart;  and  ye  can  marry  me  or  not,  and  ye  can  tell 
on  me  or  not,"  says  she,  sobbing  on  her  sleeve ;  "  but 
I  '11  git  away— if  I  have  to  swim  to  Juneau ;  and  if  no 
preacher  is  there,  so  be  it,  and  the  divil  have  me ;  for 
I  '11  never  sing  another  hymn  nor  hear  a  sermon  as 
long  as  I  live,  nor  give  a  cent  to  the  poor !" 

And  with  that  the  chaplain  took  to  comforting  her 
hands,  which  was  his  favorite  trick,  with  me  looking 
north  and  south  in  me  shame.  And  I  seen  Gloria 
peeping  at  him  from  the  corner  of  her  eyes. 

";T  is  not  for  me  to  say  who  ye  shall  marry,"  says 
Tommy;  "but  I  warn  ye  that  a  common  sailorman, 
and  one  of  such  parts  as  this  Clarence  O'Shay,  is  a 
bad  handle  to  your  natural  advantages,  which  is  sure 
to  attract  to  ye  men  of  brains  and  good  luck.  Me 
conscience  tells  me  to  warn  ye ;  but  if  ye  think  no 
better  of  it,  then  count  on  me  to  marry  ye  to  who  ye 
shall  choose ;  though  1 11  be  no  party  to  your  comings 
and  goings  till  the  minute  of  the  ceremony." 

And  we  come  away,  with  the  chaplain  moaning  to 
himself  and  gesticulating  of  pigs  and  pearls.  On  the 
pier  was  the  Injun  with  the  scar,  talking  with  Clarence 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  77 

as  easy  as  ye  like.  "  'T  is  a  decent  young  man,  after 
all,"  says  O'Shay ;  "  for  he  says  howdy-do,  and  he  says 
;t  was  all  a  mistake,  his  evil  eye.  'T  was  only  I  look 
like  the  man  that  stole  his  watch."  And  the  Injun 
smiled  and  give  us  a  chew  of  his  plug.  'T  was  plain 
to  see  that  he  was  the  same  that  was  shot  with  the 
slug,  and  ye  liked  him  for  it.  I  did  n't  know  then 
that  the  Injun  was  just  back  from  Juneau,  and  flying 
only  by  night,  so  that  the  old  man  would  n't  suspect 
him. 

I  fixed  up  the  chaplain,  and  then  I  must  take  me 
safety  in  me  hands  to  arrange  with  Gloria  her  escapade 
from  the  house. 

"Have  care  for  your  life  in  this  place  by  night," 
says  she,  leaning  over  the  fence;  "for  his  mind  is 
portending  disasters,  and  his  temper  standing  on  end. 
Onc't  I  am  married,  and  some  one  pursues  me,  me 
husband  can  shoot  him  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  But 
if  me  father  with  his  gun  should  catch  us  leaving,  't  is 
somebody  killed." 

"  Git  out !"  roars  old  Mundy,  coming  to  the  door. 
"  Come  into  the  house,  ye  adventurous  girl  j  and  ye 
need  n't  eat  till  morning  !" 

And  I  went  off  without  cursing  him,  which  I  lay  it 
to  me  credit. 

'T  was  by  such  that  at  eleven  o'clock  one  night  me 
and  O'Shay  rowed  around  from  the  Ranch,  and  past 
the  castle,  creeping  along  the  beach  to  the  Mission 
end  of  the  town.  The  sun  was  two  hours  down,  and 
the  twilight  gone  chasing  it  till 't  was  near  as  dark  as 
would  be.  And  shortly  we  crawled  in  our  socks 
through  the  garden,  and  set  like  frogs  beneath  the 


78  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

old  man's  window,  waiting  for  the  tune  of  his  snore. 
At  the  sound  of  it,  Gloria  says  never  a  word,  but  she 
looks  out  from  the  second  story,  all  wrapped  in  a 
cloak;  and  asking  no  persuasion,  and  silent  as  a 
spider,  she  slides  down  the  dark  on  a  clothes-line. 

The  rhinoceros  girl  must  go,  too,  says  she,  stubborn 
as  women  can  be;  but  the  rhinoceros  took  the  cold 
sweats,  and  never  mind  your  cross-explanations,  she  7d 
not  offer  herself  to  the  air.  Till  Clarence  shinned  up 
the  rope  and  lowered  her  down  with  a  barrel  hitch, 
kicking  and  puffing,  and  falling  into  me  arms  with  a 
yell.  And  old  Mundy  rolled  from  his  bed  with  a 
shout,  and  we  put  for  the  beach,  the  whole  cavalcade, 
with  Gloria  in  the  lead,  goading  the  rhinoceros,  and 
little  Clarence  jumping  the  fence.  And  we  scarce 
had  shoved  off  when  I  see  the  old  man,  half  dressed 
in  a  sheet,  running  for  the  shore  like  a  frozen  spirit, 
with  howling  to  shake  the  hills. 

"  He  '11  git  his  gun  and  his  canoe— 't  is  a  fast  one  !" 
says  Gloria,  standing  up  straight  in  the  bow ;  and  ye 
could  see  nothing  but  outlines  of  her,  like  a  statue  in 
the  dark.  "  He  'd  better  stay  at  home !"  says  she ; 
and  that  she  was  the  same  that  had  wept  with  the 
chaplain  ye  would  n't  believe. 

We  watched  the  old  man  galloping  for  his  canoe ; 
but  in  a  minute  he  stopped  like  his  wits  was  pulled. 
For  a  stranger  had  rose  from  the  canoe  and  paddled 
away  with  it;  and,  as  now  I  know,  7t  was  the  Injun 
with  the  scar. 

"Ye  're  dom'd  forever!"  shouts  the  old  man,  roar 
ing  after  us  with  his  rage. 

And  says  Gloria :  "  Praise  the  Lord !     Praise  the 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  79 

Lord !  Ye  have  n't  your  gun,  and  ye  can't  spoil  me 
life  any  more !" 

"  True  for  ye/'  says  O'Shay,  exerting  himself  with 
his  oar.  "  But  who  the  divil  is  this  stealing  your 
father's  canoe  ? " 

"  'T  is  the  sweetest  angel  on  earth  that  did  it !"  says 
Gloria,  loud  for  a  thousand  yards,  and  hugging  her 
self  for  joy.  'T  was  the  first  word  she  had  spoke  to 
O'Shay,  and  that  she  'd  not  noticed  him  more  I  took 
for  maidenly  fear. 

"  So  it  is,  me  darling,"  says  O'Shay,  calling  atten 
tion  to  himself,  that  was  by  the  shortness  of  his  length 
but  a  fragment  beside  her. 

"Ye  need  n't  call  me  your  darling/'  says  Gloria, 
turning  on  him  and  drawing  away  her  skirts.  "And 
mind  ye  don't  do  it  again.'7 

Such  that  Clarence  got  mad,  and  muttered  to  him 
self  he  would  call  her  what  he  dom  pleased  when  the 
knot  was  tied.  And  I  give  meself  thanks  for  me 
freedom  from  women.  We  seen  the  stranger  in 
Mundy's  canoe  absorbed  in  the  gloom,  with  Gloria 
spoiling  our  trim  to  watch  him.  Then  the  night  was 
on  a  center,  and  ye  just  made  out  the  lines  of  the 
mountains,  with  the  lights  of  the  town  dropping  out 
as  we  put  it  astern.  And  me  and  O'Shay  rowed  along 
sulky ;  for  she  set  to  herself  like  a  captain,  cooking 
her  own  designs;  and  the  pleasant  picnic  me  and 
O'Shay  would  have  made  of  it  soured  before  it  was 
born. 

"  Why  don't  ye  go  faster  I "  says  Gloria,  in  a  while, 
as  though  we  was  hired,  and  she  at  the  end  of  impa 
tience.  "  Don't  ye  know  he  '11  chase  ye  ?  " 


SO  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

But  we  mumbles  we  could  take  care  of  him.  We 
was  first  headed  seaward ;  but  back  of  an  island  we 
altered  our  course,  with  Sitka  disappearing,  and  a  new 
color  of  darkness  forestalling  the  morning.  The  face 
of  the  girl  was  taking  shape,  and  I  seen  it  all  mingled 
with  gladness  and  gloom,  like  the  balance  of  an  April 
day.  And  she  fidgets  and  sighs  like  a  tree  before  rain. 

"  Did  the  chaplain  promise  ye  sure  he  would  come  ? " 
says  she,  a  bit  sharp.  "  Don't  say  ye  made  a  mistake  ! 
For  I  '11  never  go  back,  if  I  lose  me  soul !  I  hope  the 
old  man's  heart  will  dry  and  crack  with  the  wind  of 
his  prayers,"  says  she— or  such  words.  "  I  hope  he  '11 
live  to  die  of  second  childhood,  maltreated  like  me. 
'T  is  been  the  same  since  five  year  old,  when  he 
would  n't  lemme  git  a  doll  at  the  Mission  Christmas 
tree,  for  fear  of  me  changing  belief.  What 's  that?" 

'T  was  the  ping  of  a  bullet,  with  the  bang  of  a  rifle, 
coming  from  some  direction  in  the  gloom — 't  was  hard 
to  tell  where.  The  rhinoceros  give  a  snort. 

"Lay  down  in  the  bottom,  all  of  ye !"  says  Gloria, 
jumping  over  the  thwarts  till  she  grabbed  my  oar. 
We  heard  another  shot.  "  Lay  down,"  says  she,  "  and 
let  me  row ;  and  when  he  sees  me,  maybe  he  '11  stop." 

I  muttered  a  swear,  and  I  says  did  she  think  we  was 
dough  ? 

"  Forward  with  ye,  and  take  cover !"  says  I. 

"Yes,"  says  Clarence;  "all  hands  take  cover  but 
me ;  for  the  funeral  is  mine,  and,  bedad,  I  '11  steer  it." 

"  I  '11  do  no  such  thing,"  says  Gloria,  ducking  at  the 
sound  of  another  shot. 

"  I  '11  stay  where  I  am,"  says  I. 

"Ye  '11   take    orders!"  says   Clarence,  firing  up. 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  81 

"Is  this  your  wedding  procession,  or  is  it  mine,  ye 
pig-headed  spider!"  says  he,  putting  his  thumb  up 
at  me. 

"  It  's  mine,"  says  Gloria ;  "  and  suppose  he  would 
kill  the  both  of  ye,  how  could  I  repay  ye?  For  I 
warn  ye,  ye  '11  not  be  half  rewarded  for  escaping  me 
from  me  father,"  says  she,  pushing  and  hauling  with 
us.  I  thought  the  boat  would  capsize  and  us  drownd, 
with  our  expostulations,  till  we  noticed  the  old  man 
had  ceased  firing.  The  bullets  had  been  plunked  at 
random,  with  the  hopes  of  finding  us  out  j  but  he  had 
lost  our  trail  by  the  misleading  of  our  voices. 

"  Good  !"  says  Gloria.  "  Brave  and  honest  ye  are, 
Sudd  Lannigan;  and  don't  take  hard  of  me  words. 
'T  is  life  and  death,  and  me  locked  in  me  room  since 
yesterday,  and  not  a  bite.  For  he  says  the  evil  spirit 
must  starve  in  me  flesh.  Many  's  the  day  I  Ve  spent 
likewise,  till  I  7d  crawl  down-stairs  and  steal  food  in 
the  night  to  keep  from  freezing.  So  don't  take  it 
hard.  Sure,"  says  she  then,  calming  her  voice,  "if  I 
was  rich  I  'd  pay  the  two  of  ye  handsome." 

Even  O'Shay  understood  that  such  talk  to  the  man 
ye  elope  with  is  something  ye  can't  understand ;  and 
Clarence  blowed  loud  on  his  nose  with  the  elegant 
plaid  pocket-handkerchief  which  consisted  of  his  trous 
seau  ;  but  the  sound  of  it  passed  by  her  ears. 

"For  I  never  had  nothing  of  me  own,"  she  goes  on, 
"not  even  a  rag  doll.  He  says  I  was  chose  for  a 
mission,  and  me  life  belonging  to  God,  that  sent  him 
to  save  me.  I  'd  prefer  to  have  died  !  And  will  the 
chaplain  sure  find  the  place  ?  "  says  she. 

'T  was  gitting  daylight,  and  them  eyes  of  hers  show- 


82  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

ing  from  the  pale  of  her  cheek.  We  was  off  in  the 
wilderness,  crowded  by  mountains  thick  wooded  with 
trees  to  the  swash  of  the  tide  j  and  I  see  a  clear  coast 
behind.  The  landing-place  Gloria  would  fix  for  her 
self,  and  the  stopping-place,  half-way  up  a  hill,  where 
she  says  we  would  see  the  launch  when  it  come.  She 
says  she  was  cold ;  and  we  lighted  a  fire,  both  growl 
ing  inside  at  her  way;  for  she  seemed  to  consider  me 
and  O'Shay,  if  at  all,  as  but  beasts.  She  had  no  re 
marks,  but  was  watching  the  wind,  and  would  throw 
weeds  to  the  flames  till  the  smoke  curled  away  like 
running  to  tell  where  we  was;  and  all  the  time  she 
would  be  hurrying  to  look  for  the  chaplain,  though 
we  told  her  the  steam-launch  would  bring  him,  and 
blow  on  its  whistle.  Me  and  O'Shay  set  drinking  per 
fumery,  the  whisky  of  civilization  being  barred  to  the 
Territory  by  law  j  and  Gloria  would  not  participate, 
saying  such  things  was  the  curse  of  mankind.  "  'T  is 
still  an  elegant  creature  it  is,"  says  O'Shay,  apologiz 
ing  for  her,  "  though  a  bit  unusual.  But  most  of  them 
women,"  says  he,  fanning  himself  to  look  undisturbed, 
"is  all  alike."  And  he  would  gaze  offhand  at  her, 
looking  blank  as  it  't  was  nothing  at  all,  yet  with 
Gloria  now  and  then  stumbling  over  him  and  turning 
to  find  what  it  was.  Till  finally  Clarence's  face  give 
it  up,  and  he  set  beating  the  ground  with  his  fist. 
And  for  me,  I  mumbled  it  was  a  ladies'  pleasure-party 
him  and  me  was  flunkies  to.  Then  she  see  our  dis 
temper  j  and  with  that  she  threw  back  her  head,  with 
her  hands  on  her  hips,  and  discovered  her  teeth  with 
smiles. 

"  I  thought  it  the  custom  of  gentlemen  sailors  to 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  83 

drink  to  the  health  of  the  ladies  present,"  says  she ; 
"  and  here  ye  are,  like  pigs  in  the  trough !" 

"  Then  here  '&  to  the  health  of  Miss  Gloria  Mundy," 
says  I  j  "  and  may  the  corners  of  your  mouth  always 
point  to  the  sky." 

"  And  never  regret  that  ye  rose  to  be  Mrs.  O'Shay," 
says  Clarence,  swelling  his  chest. 

By  her  advice,  we  drank  to  the  rhinoceros,  though 
more  for  the  sake  of  the  drink ;  and  then  to  the  chap 
lain  j  and  then  to  the  man  that  stole  Father  Mundy's 
canoe— which  I  did  n't  know  then  was  the  Injun  with 
the  scar. 

"For  he  's  ten  times  the  best  of  any  of  ye,"  says 
Gloria,  singing  it  as  though  our  liquor  had  gone  to 
her  head. 

The  time  begun  going  fast,  and  the  sun  painting 
the  sky ;  and  the  perfumery  sent  up  Clarence's  spirits 
till  he  says,  after  all,  't  was  an  elegant  lass  she  was. 
She  stood  high  on  a  mound  behind  the  fire,  with  her 
black  hair  loose  and  flying  in  her  face,  and  her  nose 
as  straight  as  a  rule;  and  she  laughed  with  excite 
ment,  with  the  smoke  flaunting  up  between  us  and 
her,  till  your  heart  flapped  with  admiration. 

"Long  life  to  me  Mrs.  O'Shay !"  shouts  little  Clar 
ence,  exulting  over  her  like  an  apple  on  a  bough  j  and 
he  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but  ups  and  afters  her, 
calling,  "  A  kiss  to  sweeten  me  drink,  me  darling !" 

But  just  then  we  heard  the  smashing  of  bushes  ,• 
and  here,  in  the  crack  of  a  thumb,  we  seen  appearing, 
first  the  Injun  with  the  scar,  with  a  rope  tied  round 
his  neck,  ready  for  hanging ;  then  old  Mundy  himself, 
in  his  shirt,  trousers,  and  beard,  holding  the  end  of 


84  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

the  rope,  and  prodding  the  Injun  in  the  rear  with  a 
rifle.  The  rhinoceros  lit  out  for  the  woods. 

"  Ye  will  kidnap  me  daughter,  ye  brace  of  man- 
thieves  I"  says  the  old  man,  with  the  rifle  resting  on 
his  arm  and  pointing  at  the  group  of  us.  "  Ye  mil 
combine  to  marry  her  to  a  sneaking  aboriginee  like 
this  I  have  on  the  end  of  a  string !"  says  he.  "  God 
would  forgive  me  for  shooting  him  now." 

"  You  leave  him  alone  !"  says  Gloria,  making  a  rush 
for  the  weapon,  and  turning  it  off.  "  I  'm  done  with 
your  wild  dervish  tactics,"  says  she.  "  If  it 's  shoot 
ing,  shoot  me.'' 

"  Off,  ye  lost  angel !"  cries  old  Mundy.  "  There  's 
not  one  of  ye  fit  to  live.  The  divil  has  one  and  all  of 
ye,  and  I  would  do  the  service  of  God  if  I  blowed  ye 
all  back  to  Satan  in  a  heap." 

Me  and  O'Shay  made  a  grab,  and  twisted  his  fire 
arms  away  from  him,  him  frothing  at  the  mouth  with 
rage.  In  the  midst  of  it  we  heard  the  whistle  of  the 
steam-launch,  that  had  gone  by  without  our  knowing, 
and  stopped  a  short  way  beyond.  We  seen  the  Injun 
and  Gloria  running  off  together  up  the  trail. 

"Head  'em  off!"  shouts  t>~  old  man.  "They  're 
gone  to  elope  with  each  oth  - . 

"Divil  a  bit,"  says  O'Shay.  "'T  is  me  that  your 
daughter  has  came  here  to  marry;  and  ye  can  ram 
that  information  hard  down  the  bowl  of  your  pipe." 

"You— ye  little  red  Irish  flea!"  says  the  old  man 
or  such  words.  "  Then  what  for  do  the  two  of  'em 
chase  off  holding  each  other's  hands  ? " 

Then  I  seen  what  was  the  explanation  of  Gloria  for 
all  of  our  time  in  the  boat. 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  85 

"  Ye  can  give  it  up,  little  man/'  says  I,  laying  me 
hand  on  Clarence's  shoulder.  "  She  's  put  up  the  job 
to  marry  the  Injun,  and  you  nothing  but  the  baboon's 
paw  to  draw  the  old  man's  fire." 

But  ye  might  as  well  explain  to  his  thick  little  skull 
as  a  stone. 

"  Avast !"  he  bawls.  "  I  '11  chase  her  till  me  feet 
wears  off  me  stumps!"— shaking  his  fist  at  her;  and 
he  put  off  up  the  mountain-side,  with  his  two  little 
bandy  legs  twinkling  like  spokes  of  a  wheel,  and  me 
and  old  Mundy  pursuing  the  rear.  The  trail  led  up 
around  a  spur  and  down  the  other  flank,  to  meet  the 
steam-launch.  Away  went  the  five  of  us,  leaping  like 
hare  and  hounds  at  a  hurdle-race,  with  Gloria  leading 
the  line  up  the  steep,  and  skipping  like  air  over  trees 
and  boulders,  and  wearing,  as  I  remember  to  this 
day,  brown  stockings  on  her  feet. 

"  Come  here !"  yells  Clarence,  his  voice  smelling  loud 
with  perfumery.  "  For  I  '11  chase  ye  till  the  hairs  of 
me  head  is  as  missing  as  an  egg !" 

But  never  a  word  says  Gloria,  running  like  a 
chammy,  and  her  face  white  with  fear.  I  seen  her 
throw  up  her  chin  and  shut  her  teeth,  then  draw  away 
like  a  winner,  with  the  Injun  behind  her,  still  drag 
ging  the  rope  from  his  neck.  We  come  where  the 
trail  split  and  joined  further  on ;  and  Gloria  took  the 
long  of  it,  fearing  the  short  of  it,  that  led  by  the  edge 
of  a  sharp  decline.  She  disappeared  around  the  bend, 
and  the  ground  give  way  beneath  our  feet,  and  the 
three  of  us  stopped  and  grabbed  each  other.  At  the 
same  time  I  suddenly  see  ten  thousand  cataclysms  of 
brown  stockings  exploding  in  the  air.  I  found  meself 


8($  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

hurling  through  space,  handhold  of  old  Mundy's  beard, 
and  with  total  disregard  to  the  laws  of  gravitation. 

When  I  returned  to  meself,  it  was  laying  on  me 
back,  afraid  to  more  than  half  open  me  eyes  for  fear 
the  jar  of  it  would  bring  down  the  rest  of  the  moun 
tain.  The  fresh  dirt  was  commingling  with  me  face 
and  insides,  and  all  around  I  heard  the  light  swash  of 
the  ripples  of  the  bay,  which  laid  lapping  me  feet, 
with  a  bald  eagle  looking  down  at  me  from  a  tree-top 
with  its  eye. 

Then  I  heard  a  trembling  voice  behind  me.  7T  was 
old  Mundy  praying,  with  a  bloody  nose.  The  Lord 
had  seen  fit  to  spare  his  own  half-sinful  life,  says  he, 
while  at  the  same  time  executing  judgment  on  the  two 
rascally  villains  that  laid  dead  beside  him.  But  he 
says  he  hoped  the  Lord  would  have  mercy  on  our 
souls  j  for  he  would  n't  enter  no  complaints  if  we  was 
spared  from  a  hot  hereafter  and  let  wander  in  space, 
groaning  over  our  misdeeds.  He  begun  mumbling 
out  of  a  prayer-book  the  service  for  dead  souls,  wind 
ing  up  with :  "  O  Lord,  forgive  them  their  transgres 
sions.  Amen  \" 

In  the  middle  of  it  I  set  up  and  looked  for  little 
Clarence.  I  seen  him  like  a  log  at  the  water's  edge, 
with  the  rising  tide  spattering  his  face,  that  was  gray 
as  a  fistful  of  putty. 

"Ye  brass  old  Cogswell  image!'7  says  I.  "What 
do  ye  sit  there  for,  with  a  man  drownding  to  death 
behind  your  back  ? " 

I  stooped  over  to  haul  little  Clarence  up  and  empty 
the  water  from  him.  Old  Mundy  jumped  out  of  his 
skin,  and  landed  on  me  back. 


THE  TRANSIT  OF  GLORIA  MUNDY  87 

"'T  is  you— you  that  connived  this  conspiracy,  ye 
white-headed  sepulcher !"  says  he.  "  Take  that,  and 
that,  and  that,  ye  Satan !"  says  he.  And  he  ham 
mered  me  with  his  prayer-book  till  it  went  to  pieces 
and  filled  the  air  that  full  of  beseeches  as  a  church 
chimney.  The  profanity  of  it  lost  me  me  temper,  arid 
I  bucked  him  into  the  water,  where  he  sizzled  for  a 
second  like  a  live  coal. 

"  Come  to,  Clarence,  me  boy !"  says  I,  shaking  him, 
and  glad  at  the  color  of  life  that  showed  in  his  face. 

"Is  the  ceremony  over?"  says  Clarence,  with  his 
eyes  shut. 

"  'T  was  no  ceremony,"  says  I.     "  'T  was  a  landslide." 

"  And  me  wife  ? "  says  Clarence,  a  bit  confused. 

"  Begad,"  says  I,  "  your  wife  has  gone  to  her 
wedding." 

The  launch  come  panting  around  the  point. 

"Have  ye  seen  Miss  Gloria  Mundy,  sir?"  says  I. 

"  I  just  married  her  to  the  Injun  with  the  scar," 
says  the  chaplain.  "And  good  luck  't  was  not  your 
drunken  O'Shay.  Dear  me,  what  >s  the  matter  of 
him  ? " 

We  all  looked  off  at  a  sail-boat  scudding  with  the 
Injun  and  the  rhinoceros  and  Gloria.  Old  Mundy 
sent  up  a  howl. 

"  She  that  I  bred  to  save  souls !"  says  he. 

"And  two  pints  of  perfumery  smashed  in  me 
breeches  !"  says  O'Shay,  mumbling. 

And  says  the  chaplain,  with  a  smile :  "  Sick  transit, 
Gloria  Mundy !" 

"  I  wish  her  the  same,"  says  I  to  meself  j  "  for  she 
did  n't  treat  Clarence  square." 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S 


A  HARD  EOAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIX'S 


HE  naked  statues  stared  at  us  along 
the  hall,  each  one  as  if  to  say, 
"What  the  divil  is  two  common 
men  doing  in  this  private  palace, 
anyway?"  But  they  did  n't  faze 
me,  for  I  knew  all  about  'em  from 
a  newspaper  clipping  which  by  chance  I  had  in  me 
pocket  j  and  says  I  to  Clarence  O'Shay : 

"  Do  ye  know  the  carpet  you  're  standing  on  cost 
thirty-five  dollars  a  yard  ? " 

"  The  saints  !"  says  Clarence,  stepping  off  of  it. 
"  Do  ye  know  the  mosaic  floor  you  're  standing  on 
now  cost  thirty-five  dollars  a  foot  f "  says  I. 

"  The  divil  himself !"  says  Clarence,  stepping  back 
on  the  carpet. 

"And  the  man  that  owns  it  all  is  worth  twenty- 
eight  millions  in  gold,"  says  I. 

Clarence's  eyes  bulged  out  like  little  blue  beads  on 
a  golliwog. 

"Could  he  come  by  as  much  as  that  honest?" 
says  he. 

"Sure,"  says  I.  "For  the  stealing  was  done  by 
his  ancestors ;  and  his  mother  that  rich  by  continual 
marriage  and  divorce  that  she  never  carried  the  same 
handkerchief  twice,  but  put  it  away  in  a  drawer." 

91 


92  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

The  suspicious  eye  of  the  lackey  in  the  white  shirt 
and  swallowtail  come  back  down  the  marble  stairs 
and  shrugged  his  nose  at  us. 

"  No  one  in  this  house  knows  anything  about  you 
two/7  says  he,  laying  hold  of  the  door. 

"  Did  n't  the  gentleman  tell  us  to  come  here,"  says 
Clarence,  "  and  did  n't  he  give  us  his  pasteboard  ? " 

"  Oh,  maybe  he  did,"  says  the  lackey,  "  and  then, 
again,  maybe  you  picked  up  his  card  in  the  street." 
And  with  that  he  opened  the  door  to  the  night  and 
let  in  a  breath  of  the  fogj  and  me  and  Clarence  fin 
gered  our  caps  with  rage. 

"Hold  on,  William !"  commands  a  voice  in  patent- 
leather  shoes,  running  down  the  stairs,  all  pink  with 
haste.  "You  are  the  two  men  which  Mr.  Wallace 
said  he  would  hunt  up  for  me  ;  and  you  're  just  in  the 
nick  of  time." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I.  "  The  gentleman  told  us  you  'd 
pay  us  ten  dollars  and  a  pleasant  evening—" 

"  And  a  hot  dinner,  which  we  ain't  had  any,"  says 
Clarence. 

"Yes,  sir,"  says  I.  "But  what  the  gentleman 
wanted  us  to  do  for  you  in  return  he  did  n't  have 
time  to  describe,  but  told  us  to  run—" 

"And  you  're  just  in  the  nick  of  time,"  says  the 
absent-minded  Poet,  which  we  saw  he  was  from  his 
overgrowed  hair  and  the  fiddling  of  his  hands.  "  I  do 
hope  you  understand  we  want  the  real  thing,"  says 
he,  "  as  far  as  possible." 

"  We  have  no  idea  what  you  want  us  to  do,"  says  I, 
inviting  his  explanations. 

"  They  are  made  of  wood,"  says  the  Poet,  musing  to 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  93 

himself,  while  me  and  Clarence  looked  questions  at 
each  other ;  "  but  they  will  sound  all  right,  I  think," 
says  the  Poet.  "And  what  I  want  especial  to  say— 
oh,  there  goes  the  music  !  Come  on  !" 

And  in  the  gasp  of  his  own  breath  he  galloped  up 
the  polished  stairs,  with  me  and  Clarence  chasing  his 
paper  dancing-pumps  like  four  cobblestones— past 
long  corridors,  and  lady's-maids,  and  boys  in  buttons, 
as  many  as  a  dream,  every  one  staring  at  us  like  the 
flight  of  strange  birds,  and  we  all  the  time  guessing 
as  to  what  he  wanted  us  for  and  what  it  was  that  was 
made  of  wood.  Till  the  Poet  burst  through  a  door 
and  we  after  him ;  and  all  of  a  sudden  here  was  me 
and  Clarence  in  Newport,  behind  the  scenes  of  a  pri 
vate  theatricals,  up  to  our  chins  in  society.  7T  was 
such  a  swarm  of  the  wives,  daughters,  sons,  maid 
servants,  and  man-lackeys  of  millionaires,  all  running 
this  way  and  that,  and  smelling  of  cut  flowers  and 
violet- water,  and  jingling  with  jewelry  and  glittering 
with  clothes,  that  me  and  Clarence  was  nigh  over 
come  with  the  altitude  of  it,  and  would  have  liked  to 
crawl  off  in  the  dark  like  two  mongrel  pups  at  a  dog 
show. 

The  Poet  had  burrowed  himself  in  the  crowd ;  but 
here  comes  William,  and  says  I,  smiling  kind :  "  Will 
you  please  ask  the  gentleman  what  is  it  that 's  made 
of  wood  ? "  And  says  William  :  "  No,  I  will  not !" 

We  said  to  ourselves  had  he  fetched  us  to  play  on 
something  of  wood,  like  the  castanets  or  the  violin, 
for  which  we  had  none  of  the  gift  ?  And  we  begun  to 
feel  as  foolish  as  two  plumbers  called  in  on  the  run 
to  a  case  of  nose-bleed.  And,  besides,  the  Poet  would 


94  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

seem  to  have  clean  forgot  of  us,  and  the  stares  of  the 
women  kept  pinning  us  close  to  the  wall,  like  two 
foreign  insecks.  Till  Clarence,  that  had  his  appetite 
all  spread  for  the  hot  dinner  that  no  one  would  bring 
us,  and  could  not  keep  his  morals  upright  without 
ballast  of  food,  begun  to  take  hard  of  the  passage  of 
time,  and  says  he : 

"  Come  away  from  this  foolish  place,  and  let 's  keep 
on  to  Andy  Coggin's  and  get  a  plate  of  beans." 

And,  to  sweeten  your  temper,  comes  William  and 
boosted  us  off  of  the  stage,  and  says  did  we  think  was 
the  cream  of  society  aching  to  witness  our  beauty  ? 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  Clarence  to  me,  in  a  burst.  "  Get 
off  the  stage,  and  get  off  the  earth— that  ?s  the  way  it 
is  with  them  swells.  This  place  may  be  all  right," 
says  he,  loud  enough  for  every  one ;  "  but  I  'm  going 
down  to  Andy  Coggin's  to  get  a  plate  of  beans." 

And  the  women  all  opened  their  mouths  to  each 
other  like  dying  fish,  till  me  face  tanned  with  shame. 
But  a  friend  of  the  Poet  says  he : 

"  I  'm  glad  you  've  come  j  for  we  could  n't  have  had 
the  play  without  you.  I  suppose  you  've  tried 
'em  on  ? " 

"Tried  on  what?"  says  I.  "What  is  it  we  're 
wanted  to  do  ? " 

And  he  put  his  finger  to  his  mouth  and  pointed  to 
the  curtain;  and  up  it  went,  with  me  and  Clarence 
stranded  in  the  wings,  and  no  more  intelligent  than 
when  we  entered  the  house. 

We  see  a  background  of  good-looking  maidens  all 
setting  in  the  woods ;  and  one  that  I  will  say  was  as 
handsome  as  ever  need  be,  she  was  the  main  con- 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  95 

sideration  of  the  play.  And  says  she,  all  speaking  in 
rhymes  and  fine  simile  and  such  high-sounding  lan 
guage  as  no  poor  girl  could  afford,  the  gist  of  the 
following : 

"  I  'm  a  most  misfortunate  young  person  from  down 
here  at  Tholwick-in-the-Glen.  And  though  I  do  look 
as  if  I  was  up  too  early  this  morning,  me  character  is 
beyond  approach.  For  the  fact  is,"  says  she,  breaking 
into  tears,  "just  now  when  the  sun  was  not  yet  gild 
ing  rosy  on  the  mountain-tops,  some  one  waked  up 
me  father— waked  him  up  before  he  was  out  of  his 
bed,  and  killed  him  with  the  cruel  end  of  a  stick. 
And  me,  poor  romantic  bird,  I  'm  out  looking  for  me 
uncle,  that  was  reputed  to  be  hunting  the  wild  boar 
this  morning — or  else,"  says  she,  throwing  both  eyes 
on  the  floor,  "  some  handsome  young  knight  that 
would  love  me  for  meself  alone.  But,"  says  she,  blub 
bering  again  (and  Clarence  was  deep  affected),  "no 
one  appears  to  like  me  style,  and  the  best  thing  I  'd 
do  is  to  crawl  in  some  hole  and  die,  like  a  tired  dove  !" 

But  on  jumps  the  Hero,  a  strapping  young  foot-ball 
kicker  from  Harvard,  shining  in  his  armor  like  a 
brass  tea-pot. 

"What— a  lovely  young  thing  like  you!"  says  he. 
"  Why,  when  you  walk  in  the  garden  the  lilies  turn 
green,  and  a  bee  stopped  for  some  time  at  your  lips, 
I  hear,  thinking  your  words  was  honey.  Show  me 
him  that  slew  your  parent,  and  I  '11  write  his  name 
in  the  skies  of  evil  fame,"  says  he,  "  for  1 7m  Sir  Hoth- 
ryn ;  and  to-night,  sweet  Yvernelle,  you  and  me  will 
be  married  with  the  end  of  the  candles  that  buried  the 
old  man." 


96  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

" Never!"  says  the  Villain,  breaking  through  the 
door  of  his  castle  and  landing  between  'em.  "  Young 
man,"  says  he,  "  you  promised  your  hand  in  marriage 
to  me  daughter  Tlmthelred.  Leave  this  stray  virgin 
alone,  and  go  into  the  house  and  make  love  to  Thu- 
thelred,  ye  forgetful  beggar,  or  else  meet  trouble.  For 
I  'in  a  bad  man,  and  suspected  of  killing  not  only 
Yvernelle's  father,  but  yours,  too." 

"Then,  bedad!"  says  the  Hero,  "I  consider  meself 
justified  in  keeping  me  word  of  honor  to  the  fair 
Yvernelle.  Look/'  says  he,  pointing  up  at  another 
young  woman  that  stepped  on  the  stage  and  got  lost 
in  the  flare  of  the  Heroine's  beauty,  "observe  the 
approach  of  the  villainous  Thuthelred.  That  woman 
is  swearing  to  keep  you  and  me  apart;  but,  on  me 
soul,"  says  the  Hero,  "I  swear  that  you,  Yvernelle, 
are  a  better-looking  girl  than  this  Thuthelred." 

"What,"  says  the  Villain,  "her  prettier  than  my 
Thuthelred  ?  A  slap  in  the  face  of  me  honor !" 

And  with  that  the  orchestra  struck  up  with  chords 
of  disharmony,  and  the  Villain  cut  a  round  hole  with 
his  sword  in  the  air,  and  jumped  through  it  to  get  at 
the  Hero,  that  had  come  off  with  nothing  but  a  dirk ; 
and  the  only  thing  that  saved  the  Hero's  life  was  the 
coming  down  of  the  curtain. 

"  And  never  a  hiss  !"  said  Clarence,  waving  his  hand 
in  disgust  at  the  stage.  "  They  can  sit  and  hear  of  a 
young  girl's  father  treated  like  that,  and  they  never 
give  vent  to  a  word  of  objection— a  fine  creature  like 
that,"  says  he,  "  and  pretty  as  ever  was  made  !  And 
that  Hero  was  no  good ;  for  why  did  n't  he  pick  up  a 
cobble  and  make  an  end  of  that  man  with  the  sword  ? 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  97 

I  've  always  heard  ill  of  the  aristocracy/'  says  he,  all 
vacant  with  hunger,  "  and  now  I  believe  it ;  and  in 
such  a  place  where  doings  like  that  is  received  with 
applause  I  will  not  remain !" 

"  And  you  two  stopping  here  all  this  time  !"  says  the 
Poet,  red  with  exasperation.  "  How  in  the  world  do 
you  know  if  they'll  fit!" 

"  What  fit  ?    Fit  what  ? "  says  I. 

"  Look  here,  mister,"  says  Clarence ;  "  I  don't  know 
what  it  is  that  I  don't  know  whether  it  fits,  and  I  don't 
know  what  it  is  that  is  made  of  wood  5  but  whatever 
it  is,  I  can  neither  play  on  it,  eat  it,  nor  spend  it  for 
beer  j  and  this  place  is  all  crazy,  and  I  'm  going  down 
to  Andy  Coggin's  to  get  a  plate  of  beans." 

"No,  no— hold  him!"  says  the  Poet.  "What  will 
me  play  be  without  the  fight  ?  Could  n't  ye  see  that 
from  reading  the  book?"  says  he,  answering  several 
questions  from  millionaires  in  the  same  breath. 

"  What  book  ?    What  fight  ? "  says  we. 

"  Oh,  't  is  most  extraordinary  if  ye  have  n't  under 
stood,"  says  he,  with  impatience,  brushing  every  one 
else  aside  and  dragging  us  into  a  room.  "  Here  's  the 
two  suits  of  armor,"  says  he,  "  and  why  don't  you  get 
into  'em?  And  here  's  your  wooden  swords.  And 
there  's  half  a  bowl  of  punch.  And  what  I  want  you 
to  do  is  precisely  this:— just  a  minute,"  says  he 5  and 
a  lady's-maid  hauled  him  away. 

Clarence  got  that  amused  by  the  punch  that  he  let 
me  fit  him  into  his  sheet-iron  vest,  with  the  arms  and 
legs  of  a  lobster. 

"'T  is  the  liquor  of  the  aristocracy,"  says  he,  with 
his  head  in  the  bowl;  "and  I  'm  wondering  how  long 


98  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

before  I  '11  arrive  at  some  opinion  of  it."  And  he  grew 
that  tame  I  could  put  the  sheet-iron  head  on  him,  with 
the  face  that  opened  and  shut  ;  and  then,  when  he  had 
absorbed  the  dregs  of  the  punch,  he  gave  the  ghost  of 
a  smile.  But  when  I  stood  him  up  complete  and  creak 
ing  in  the  rivets,  he  begun  to  complain  of  the  ancients 
for  fighting  in  such  foolish  clothes,  and  I  knew  he  was 
running  dowrn  again,  and  had  arrived  at  no  opinion 
of  his  liquor  at  all. 

"  Them  spider-legs  of  yours  is  the  most  awkward  I 
ever  see,"  says  he,  watching  me  try  with  the  armor, 
and  him  all  at  outs  with  creation. 

"  Them  ancients  was  all  dwarfs,"  says  I,  sharing  his 
humor ;  "  and  this  tin  trousers  is  a  total  misfit." 

"  That 's  right,"  says  he  j  "  say  I  'm  a  dwarf.  And 
you  get  me  all  jailed  inside  of  this  crazy  invention, 
and  then  you  call  it  all  off !  The  whole  place  is  mis 
fits,"  says  he,  jumping  up,  all  maudlin  with  famine. 
"  The  liquor  is  weak  as  pap.  And  that  Angora  Poet 
ignores  me,  and  that  William  de  Stiffneck  insults  me. 
And  never  a  taste  of  food,  though  ye  hint  as  loud  as 
a  parrot  in  its  cage.  And  I  'm  going  to  take  this  tin 
foolishness  off  me  back,"  says  he,  fiddling  violent  with 
the  armor,  "  and  I  'm  going  down  to  Andy  Coggin's  to 
get— what 's  the  matter  of  it  ? "  says  he,  wrestling  with 
his  iron  gloves  and  trying  to  find  his  hands  and  feel 
for  the  buckles  of  his  breastplate.  "How  do  I  get 
out  of  this?"  says  he,  raising  his  voice  beyond  all 
decency.  "Do  I  back  up  ag'hV  the  wall  and  break 
the  shell  of  it  like  a  flea?  Le'  me  out  of  here !"  says 
he,  growing  frantic.  He  dashed  himself  ag'in'  the 
wall,  and  caromed  off,  jingling  like  a  tinsmith.  "  Un- 


A  HARD  KOAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  99 

screw  me  head  off  of  this !"  he  commands,  pulling  at 
his  helmet.  "Ye  '11  not,  then,  will  ye?"  says  he. 
And  with  that  he  took  up  a  chair  and  hit  himself  that 
hard  in  the  helmet  that  it  knocked  him  down  on  the 
floor. 

"What  's  the  matter  here?"  says  the  Poet,  break 
ing  through  the  door. 

"  It 's  beans— beans !"  shouts  Clarence,  gesticulating 
with  his  legs  like  a  beetle  on  its  back.  "  I  'm  on  me 
way  to  Andy  Coggin's  to  get  a  plate  of  beans !" 

"  Maybe  the  smell  of  food  would  revive  him,"  says 
I,  withholding  me  sarcasm. 

"  Here !"  says  the  Poet,  snatching  a  strange  pastry 
from  William's  tray.  'T  was  a  bit  of  cream  paste  hit 
up  with  a  stick  till  it  looked  like  the  froth  on  a  beer, 
and  rolled  inside  of  a  cooky  the  thick  of  a  post-card  j 
and  the  Poet  opens  Clarence's  helmet  and  passes  it  in 
to  him. 

"  What 's  this?"  says  Clarence. 

"  'T  is  food,"  says  the  Poet. 

"Food?"  says  Clarence,  with  a  gulp.  "Ye  call 
that  food !  I  open  me  mouth  for  a  hot  repast,  and, 
bedad !  ye  give  me  a  half-gust  of  wind  beat  up  with 
an  egg !  Take  this  Poet  away,"  says  Clarence ;  "  take 
him  away,  or  I  '11  do  meself  harm  with  me  feelings." 

Then  me  and  the  Poet  took  consultation,  and  I  come 
back  to  Clarence. 

"  There  's  supper  waiting  at  the  end  of  the  play," 
says  I.  "  And  the  man  ye  're  to  duel  with  will  be  that 
William  the  lackey,  that  says  he  was  once  in  the  cav 
alry  ;  for  I  'm  too  big  for  the  armor,  and  William  is 
just  your  size.  And  the  Poet  says  that  the  cause  of 


100  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

the  fight  will  be  your  trying  to  save  this  beantif  ul 
Yvernelle  from  the  hands  of  that  Villain  and  William." 

"For  her?"  says  Clarence,  jumping  up.  "And 
ag'in'  that  William  ?  Why  did  n't  ye  say  that  before  ? 
Come  right  along  and  give  me  the  cue.  Look  at  that, 
now/'  he  whispers,  pointing  to  the  Villain,  that  was 
dragging  the  fine  young  lady  by  a  chain  to  a  tree. 
"  People  turn  out  for  to  see  a  poor  girl  maltreated  like 
that !  Yes,  yes,  I  know  7t  is  only  a  play  j  but  where 's 
the  fun  of  it,  and  her  face  as  sweet  as  the  Countess 
of  Cork  ?  What  does  this  William  say  to  that  ?  "  says 
Clarence,  all  loose  in  the  tongue  with  excitement; 
"  and  what  do  I  say  to  him  back  ? " 

"  Whist !"  says  I.  "  The  Poet  has  give  me  the  book 
of  the  play,  and  I  'm  finding  your  place." 

"  O  cruel  foe,"  says  the  poor  girl,  praying  to  the 
Villain,  "here 's  me  father  slain  at  sunrise,  me  mother 
poisoned  while  saying  the  morning  prayers,  and  now 
you  stole  me  safeguard,  me  magic  ruby,  while  I  was 
washing  me  face  at  yonder  purling  brook.  Heaven 
will  get  even  with  you  for  this !"  says  she. 

"Me  innocent  dove,"  says  the  Villain,  "let  's  turn 
over  a  new  leaf  and  forget  that  't  was  me  that  slew 
your  father  and  mother !" 

And  here  in  the  wings,  with  his  wooden  sword, 
stood  the  proud  lackey  William,  iron-sheathed  from 
the  middle  to  his  ends,  and  ready  to  back  the  Villain 
for  any  blackguard  trick  that  might  be,  with  Clar 
ence's  hair  bristling  at  the  sight  of  him. 

"'T  is  a  tragedy,"  I  whispers  to  Clarence.  "You 
are  the  noble  friend  of  Sir  Hothryn  the  Hero  j  and  the 
Poet  says,  above  all  things,  fight  strong,  and  not  weak." 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY' COOKY'S        'J  lOT  ; 

"  Yes,  yes,"  says  Clarence,  "  strong,  and  not  weak. 
And  a  fine-looking  head  she  has,  and  elegant  feet," 
says  he.  expanding  with  pleasure.  "And  poor  Wil 
liam  !  What  will  I  do  with  his  comic  remains  when 
I  have  him  out  of  his  shell  ? " 

"  Whist !  I  7ve  not  arrived  at  the  killing,"  says  I, 
blowing  at  the  pages. 

"Poor  William!"  says  Clarence,  with  a  chuckle. 
A  heavenly  smile  was  bathing  him  head  to  foot ;  and 
he  dropped  the  vizard  of  his  helmet  to  hide  his  expec 
tations.  "  Bedad !  I  will  make  you  an  entertainment 
of  that  William !"  says  he,  tickling  himself  with  the 
words.  "  Bedad  !  I  will  make  a  climax  of  him !" 

"  Clarence !"  says  I,  all  jutting  with  perspiration. 

"What,  dear?"  says  he. 

The  words  stuck  in  me  throat.  How  could  I  break 
to  him  what  I  had  read  ? 

"Clarence  dear,"  says  I,  "it  says  in  this  book  of 
instructions  that  the  end  of  the  fight— the  end  of  the 
fight—"  and  here  I  broke  down. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  says  Clarence,  all  beaming  with  light 
through  the  holes  in  his  armored  face.  "  Do  I  dig  a 
hole  in  him  with  me  sword  and  bury  him  in  it  ? " 

"According  to  the  book,"  says  I,  swallowing  me 
heart,  "  the  end  of  the  fight  is  a  tragedy.  And  Sir 
Hothryn  does  n't  rescue  the  young  lady  at  all,  but  gets 
killed.  And  the  killing  is  done  by  William ;  and  just 
before  that— why,  William  is  required  to  kill  Sir 
Gathred  ;  and  Sir  Gathred— that 's  you  !" 

JT  was  as  though  I  had  stepped  on  me  pet  canary  in 
the  middle  of  its  song.  From  that  moment  from  his 
helmet,  that  had  grown  as  light-hearted  as  a  baby, 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

exuded  never  a  sigh  nor  a  sign.  "  Did  n't  ye  under 
stand?"  says  I,  tapping  his  iron  shoulder.  But  his 
whole  suit  of  armor  hung  like  an  empty  one  in  the 
Tower  of  London.  I  opened  his  face  and  looked  inside 
of  him.  There  he  was ;  but  his  mouth  was  as  tight  as 
a  clam,  and  I  could  n't  catch  his  eye.  I  made  a  circle 
of  him :  but  when  I  looked  here,  his  eye  traveled  there ; 
and  when  I  looked  there,  his  eye  traveled  here.  And 
I  bit  me  lips  like  the  taste  of  a  funeral  psalm,  and 
mopped  great  drops  of  fear  and  doubt  from  me  brow 
with  the  back  of  me  hand. 

For  Yvernelle,  besides,  was  pulling  us  all  by  the 
nerves.  Ye  'd  thought  't  was  true  she  was  stolen 
away  from  her  lover,  and  had  no  hope  and  no  friends ; 
and  such  was  the  melancholy  of  her  voice  and  the 
clank  of  her  chains  that  ten  little  misses  in  the  front 
row  all  blew  their  nose  and  would  not  look  sidewise. 

"  Clarence  dear,"  says  I,  walking  on  eggs,  "  't  is  a 
bit  misfortunate,  sure;  but  you  would  n't  think  of 
refusing  to  die,  since  't  is  meant  so  in  the  Poet's  book, 
of  course  1 " 

He  snapped  down  his  vizard  and  closed  himself  in 
in  the  dark ;  and  all  me  answer  was  a  blood-curdling 
moan  from  Miss  Yvernelle ;  for  the  Villain  had  just 
tried  to  pat  her  hand,  and  the  end  was  approaching. 

"  Clarence  dear,  could  n't  ye  speak  ? "  says  I.  His 
eyes  was  set  across  the  stage  like  diamonds,  glittering 
on  the  opposite  William. 

At  that  moment  the  Hero  shinned  over  the  castle 
wall  and  stepped  on  the  Villain's  toe  and  called  him  a 
hideous  mask.  The  two  rushed  off  fighting  in  the 
wings,  with  the  orchestra  doing  shivers  on  the  minor 


A  HARD  EOAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  103 

strings,  and  Yvernelle  stitching  back  and  forth,  all 
stewing  with  tenter-hooks,  till  back  comes  the  Villain 
with  a  groan. 

"  Hothryn  has  cut  off  all  me  thumbs !"  wails  the 
Villain,  falling  down.  "  Arrest  him  for  carrying  a 
magic  sword  !"  And  on  struggles  the  Hero,  and  gets 
chained  by  three  farmers  to  the  same  tree  with  Yver 
nelle. 

"  'T  is  the  end,  at  last;7  says  she,  breaking  down. 

"  Clarence,"  says  I,  "  't  is  your  turn  soon.  You  will 
have  reason— and  let  William  kill  you  comfortable  ?" 

But  he  stood  as  silent  as  his  picture. 

"  Farewell,  Hothryn,"  says  the  Villain.  "  You  was 
a  brave  young  knight ;  but  you  got  tangled  in  another 
man's  rope,  and  I  '11  have  you  executed  at  once,  on 
charge  of  heresy.  Summon  Sir  Tancred  !" 

And  on  drops  William,  like  a  bantam  from  the  hand. 
Clarence  gave  motions  of  life.  I  listened  outside  of 
him,  and  me  thermometer  fell  within  me  j  for  I  heard 
him  getting  up  steam. 

"  Farewell,  me  love,  then,"  says  Yvernelle,  between 
her  tears.  "  I  '11  make  a  funeral  of  meself  as  soon  as 
you  are  dead." 

"  Hold !"  says  Hothryn.  "  I  've  just  heard  the  horn 
of  me  faithful  friend  Sir  Gathred.  Art  thou  a  man, 
Sir  Tancred  1  Wilt  fight  Sir  Gathred  ? " 

"  I  will !"  says  William,  as  stern  as  turning  away 
peddlers  from  the  door.  He  began  stamping  his  foot 
and  cutting  out  fancy  silhouettes  with  his  sword.  I 
laid  me  hand  on  Clarence  like  a  boiler  planning  to 
burst. 

"  O'Shay  darling— for  good  manners'  sake  !"  says  I. 


104  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Hasten,  Sir  Gathred!"  commands  Hothryn,  tip 
ping  us  the  wink.  "On  you  hangs  all  my  sun  and 
stars !" 

Then  I  shut  me  eyes  like  jumping  off  a  cliff  in  a 
dream ;  and  Clarence  give  a  leap  and  exploded  in  the 
middle  of  the  stage. 

When  I  looked  up  I  knew  that  the  worst  had  begun. 
The  audience  had  risen  in  their  seats.  The  Hero  and 
Yvernelle  stood  frozen  together  with  astonished  hands, 
the  Poet  gesticulating  with  a  face  like  quinine,  and  the 
servants  all  pallid  with  fear.  And  in  the  center  of  it 
whirled  William  as  Tancred  and  Clarence  as  Gathred, 
fuming  and  clashing  like  wild  iron  hornets,  with  the 
orchestra  crashing  and  blaring  like  in  ad.  They 
squared  off  one  second  for  breath ;  then  they  collided 
together  like  two  evil  angels ;  and  William  fell  down 
with  the  magnitude  of  a  chandelier,  and  arose  again, 
and  fled,  bedad !  like  a  hairless  dog,  leaving  pieces  of 
himself  behind  him,  and  calling  out  to  the  saved,  with 
Clarence  pursuing  him  like  the  wild  Juggernaut,  till 
they  both  got  drownded  in  the  cellar,  by  the  roar  of 
the  audience  and  the  shrieks  of  the  servant-maids. 

The  Hero  and  Yvernelle  looked  at  each  other  all 
mouthless.  How  was  he  going  to  die,  with  no  one  to 
kill  him  ?  Or  she  to  poison  herself  without  reason  ? 

"  Go  on  with  the  words— do  something— die— die  !" 
shouts  the  Poet,  in  a  whisper  from  the  wings. 

But  the  words  would  have  sounded  too  foolish,  with 
Clarence  and  William  still  passing  away  like  a  thun 
der-storm  in  the  cellar.  The  eye  of  the  beholders  went 
sudden  to  the  Villain,  that  had  laid  still  with  his 
wounds,  and  had  watched  the  fight  with  his  back  to 


A  HARD  ROAD  TO  ANDY  COGGIN'S  105 

the  footlights.  He  was  writhing  and  red  in  the  face 
beyond  control,  that  irreverent  he  was,  and  laughing 
at  the  cruel  mess  that  O'Shay  had  made  of  the  play. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake !  can't  somebody  do  some 
thing?"  calls  the  Poet,  his  voice  half  tears,  and  the 
audience  wondering  what  was  the  hitch. 

"All  right,"  says  the  Villain,  shaking  like  jelly. 
He  rolled  over  to  the  audience.  "  Alas  !"  says  he,  with 
a  frightful  face,  holding  up  his  two  decapitated 
thumbs,  "  me  wounds  have  proved  fatal !  Hothryn 
and  Yvernelle,  join  hands  for  the  dance  of  life !"  he 
shouts.  "  For  't  is  evident,"  he  says,  with  a  grin  that 
near  split  his  face  in  twain,  "that  the  Fates  never 
intended  ye  should  perish.  1 'm  dying,"  says  he,  with 
a  horrible  smile,  "  and  well  I  'm  paid  for  this  day's 
work.  Now,  ye  wooden  image,"  says  he,  rolling  over 
to  the  man  at  the  rope,  "come  down  with  your 
curtain !" 

And  down  it  went,  to  a  tumult  stupendous.  Clar 
ence  come  up  from  the  cellar  alone. 

"  You  ignorant  fool !"  squeaks  the  Poet,  with  rage. 
"  You,  with  your  beastly  knock-about— you,  with  your 
low-lived  horse-play — " 

But  in  burst  the  door  and  a  mob  of  millionaires. 

"  Hurrah  !"  says  they.  "  Girls  all  sobbing  in  every 
direction,  and  that  surprise— that  blood-stirring  com 
bat  at  the  end— when  ye  had  us  all  worked  up  believ 
ing  't  would  turn  out  a  tragedy  !  Masterly  !"  says  they. 
"  The  finest  thing  in  the  language  !  And  let 's  have 
something  to  eat." 

I  found  a  short  cut  across  the  lawn  to  that  door 
where  William  had  insulted  us.  There,  in  the  mist 


106  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

and  electric  light,  was  Clarence,  coming  down  the  steps 
in  all  his  armor,  shining  like  Hamlet's  father. 

"  Where  the  divil  ye  going  ? "  says  I. 

"Have  no  conversation  with  me,"  says  he,  waving 
his  wooden  sword,  "  and  keep  company  with  yourself. 
I  'm  on  me  way  to  Andy  Coggin's  to  get  a  plate  of 
beans." 

Then  he  swallowed  himself  in  the  fog ;  and  I  heard 
the  howl  of  a  dog  that  ran  off  with  its  tail  at  half- 
mast. 


CLARENCE'S   MIND 


CLARENCE'S  MIND 


RELATED  to  ye  once  how  when  we 
was  dawdling  down  to  Andy  Coggin's 
place  to  get  a  plate  of  beans,  we  was 
enlisted  off  the  street  to  fight  a  duel 
in  the  full  armor  of  the  middle  ages 
at  a  millionaire's  private  theatricals. 
But  because  they  did  n't  treat  Clarence  right,  and  his 
appetite  had  made  him  evil-minded,  why,  he  ups  in  a 
terrible  huff  and  leaves  the  house  with  still  the  armor 
on  him.  Clarence  come  down  off  the  millionaire's 
steps  as  shining  as  a  man  in  a  ballet,  and  turned  him 
self  loose  in  the  streets  of  Newport  at  midnight,  clank 
ing  like  Hamlet's  ghost  and  carrying  a  wooden  sword. 
He  'd  not  gone  forty  rods  before  he  sent  an  old  woman 
puckering  up  her  petticoats  and  squawking  off  through 
the  fog  like  a  fowl.  Then,  bedad,  he  begun  to  wonder 
if  it  was  n't  a  trifle  sudden  of  his  temper  to  be  chasing 
away  by  himself,  wrapped  up  in  this  kind  of  accoutre 
ment. 

And  such  being  his  emotions,  all  soldered  up  as  he 
was  inside  his  helmet,  and  sweating  like  a  man  in  a 
diving-suit,  Clarence  could  not  keep  on  the  honest  road 
between  the  electric  lights,  but  he  had  to  lay  his  course 
on  the  broad  open  lawns  of  several  contidgious  estates 
where  the  grass  was  more  silent  to  the  clink  of  his  feet ; 

109 


110  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

and  he  says  to  himself  if  he  heard  the  pglice  he  would 
pose  as  a  new  bronze  statue.  Till  presently  he  sees  a 
fancy  iron  fence  before  him,  and  he  says  he  would 
hang  himself  by  the  small  of  his  back  on  one  of  the 
spikes  and  turn  a  back  somerset  to  split  off  the  armor. 
But  first  he  had  to  pass  by  a  house  with  an  open  win 
dow.  There  was  a  young  man  sitting  at  the  window, 
and  staring  out  at  the  June-bugs  that  was  flitting 
through  the  mist  to  get  at  the  light  of  the  chandelier 
inside.  The  young  man  had  his  chin  in  his  hand,  and 
there  was  an  empty  skull  and  a  big  fat  sheepskin  book 
on  the  table  beside  him  •  so  J  'm  thinking  7t  was  some 
youngster  that  was  learning  to  be  a  doctor  and  found 
himself  in  the  mood  for  diversions.  And  Clarence's 
modesty  would  n't  let  him  be  seen  in  such  a  strange 
dress  as  he  was,  and  so  Clarence  makes  to  be  all  care 
ful  arid  run  quiet  past,  beneath  the  window,  in  the 
sharp  patch  of  dark  where  the  light  did  n't  strike. 
Which  he  did;  but  at  the  same  time  he  falls  several 
feet  beneath  the  window  down  a  coal-hole,  with  a 
clatter  of  sheet-iron  and  general  consternation  like 
a  row  in  a  boiler-shop. 

Then  up  jumps  the  young  man  and  fetches  his  elec 
tric  lamp  to  the  window ;  and  when  he  illuminates  the 
coal-hole  from  above  he  sees  an  extraordinary  little 
object,  all  cased  in  metal,  trying  to  crawl  out  of  the 
place,  and  bluing  the  air  with  exclamations  of  his 
feelings,  and  falling  back  each  time  like  a  bug  in  a 
glass  bottle.  No  doubt  the  youngster  says  to  himself 
that  such  a  man  was  either  crazy  or  ought  to  be. 
And  when  Clarence  looks  up  and  sees  the  quiet  smile 
beaming  on  the  youngster's  face,  it  made  Clarence 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  111 

hot;  and  says  lie,  " Good-evening,  ye  fool;  did  ye 
never  see  a  man  in  a  coal-hole  before ! "  And  still  the 
youngster  beams  that  contented  smile  on  him,  till 
Clarence  says  aloud,  "  The  boy  is  crazy,  if  there  ever 
was  one !"  and  he  shuts  down  the  door  of  his  helmet 
and  takes  on  to  sulk.  In  a  minute  he  feels  something 
dangling  ag'in'  his  bosom-plate. 

"  Dearly  beloved  brother/'  says  the  youngster,  "  tie 
the  end  of  the  lawn-tennis  rope  around  your  waist. 
For  1 've  wine  and  cigars  awaiting  ye  here.  I  was 
full  of  me  thoughts,"  he  explains,  all  grave  as  a  graven 
image ;  "  for  it  might  have  been  that  it  might  n't  have 
been,"  says  he,  "  except  for  the  coal-hole." 

And  in  a  minute,  with  hauling  and  pulling,  Clarence 
delivers  himself  through  the  window  at  the  end  of 
the  rope,  like  a  lobster  out  of  the  sea.  And  all  to  his 
surprise,  here  he  was  in  an  elegant  mansion,  with  the 
signs  of  superfluous  wealth  sticking  all  over  the  walls, 
and  being  received  as  a  private  guest  by  this  young 
ster  that  was  as  tall  as  a  giraffe  and  as  solemn  as  a 
mock  funeral.  And  little  Clarence  and  him  looks  at 
each  other,  and  they  blinks  as  sober  as  though  divil 
a  joke  had  been  let  loose  in  the  entire  world  since  the 
fall  of  man. 

"  By  pursuing  your  eccentricities  along  with  mine, 
we  may  arrive  at  a  law  of  nature,"  says  the  young 
ster,  with  an  encouraging  smile.  "For  I  observe 
you  're  the  opposite  of  me  in  most  particulars,"  says 
he ;  "  and  since  extremes  is  accused  by  philosophy  of 
meeting  at  the  ends,  then  here  we  are." 

Clarence  looks  at  him  back,  then  scratches  his  hel 
met,  trying  to  get  at  his  little  red  head ;  and  he  says 


112  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

to  himself  that  either  he  was  up  ag'in'  one  of  the  most 
learned  men  of  the  times  or  else  a  lunatic. 

"  I  did  n't  get  the  whole  of  your  question,"  says 
Clarence,  playing  it  all  polite,  "  owing  to  the  fog  set 
tling  in  me  ear.  But  I  suppose  ye  '11  insinuate  some 
explanation  of  this  tin  foolishness  I  have  on  me  back. 
Well,  ye  see,  I  was  merely  following  down  me  way  to 
Andy  Coggin's  this  evening,  with  the  intention—" 

"Beg  pardon,"  says  the  youngster,  with  elegant 
breeding,  "  but  would  you  mind  beginning  with  some 
history  of  your  father  and  mother,  and  what  com 
plaints  was  common  to  them—" 

"  But  what  the  divil  would  that  have  to  do  with  me 
going  down  to  Andy  Coggin's  to  get  a  plate  of  beans  ? " 
says  Clarence,  pointing  with  his  sword. 

"  It  breaks  me  heart  to  interrupt  ye,"  says  the  young 
ster,  with  his  hand  up  like  a  parson ;  "  but  just  a  few 
preliminary  remarks  on  the  type  of  your  main  hallu 
cinations,  and  whether  chronic  or  intermittent,  would 
throw  considerable  light — " 

"Now  you  're  talking  electricity,"  says  Clarence, 
seeing  a  lot  of  strange  instruments  about  the  room, 
"  and  sure  I  don't  know  one  spark  from  another.  But, 
anyway,  what  would  that  have  to  do  with  me  going 
down  to  Andy  Coggin's—" 

"  Me  brother,"  says  the  youngster,  "  I  was  approach 
ing  the  question:  how  long  have  you  enjoyed  insanity?" 

"  Me  insane !"  says  Clarence.  "  I  was  never  insane 
in  me  life." 

"Yes,  yes;  but,  man  to  man,"  whispers  the  young 
ster,  "  how  long  since  ye  lost  complete  control  of  your 
mind?" 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  113 

"  Sure,  I  never  lost  me  mind,"  says  Clarence  j  "  but 
I  do  begin  to  suspect  that  you  did." 

"Oh,  have  peace  with  yourself,"  says  the  young 
ster,  all  soothing.  "Let  's  burn  incense,"  says  he, 
"  and  look  for  truth  at  the  bottom  of  a  bottle,  till  we 
find  which  one  of  us  is  craziest." 

He  sets  Clarence  in  a  leather-mahogany  chair,  and 
gives  him  a  cigar  as  long  and  fat  as  a  railway  spike ; 
and  into  a  goblet  lined  with  gold  he  pours  a  drink  of 
Madeira  that  Clarence  says  was  meat  and  drink  and 
father  and  mother  to  him,  that  pleasant  it  was,  and 
the  bottle  left  standing  so  near !  And  Clarence  clung 
to  the  bottle  like  saying  good-by  to  your  sweetheart, 
till  he  begins  to  feel  as  though  drifting  away  on  a 
private  cloud. 

"Mister,"  says  Clarence,  throwing  up  his  feet  on 
another  chair,  "  I  don't  know  whether  your  mind  is  oif 
or  on,  but  your  heart  is  still  waving  at  the  masthead, 
sure !" 

"  Ah  !"  says  the  youngster,  pointing  both  forefingers 
at  him.  "  'Sh  !"  says  he,  going  to  the  door.  He  looks 
out  in  the  hall,  then  out  of  the  window ;  then  he  comes 
on  tiptoe,  and  whispers  in  Clarence's  ear.  "  1 '11  give 
ye  me  word  of  honor,"  says  he,  "I  'm  as  crazy  as 
you !" 

"And  several  times  more,"  says  Clarence.  "For 
me  own  mind  is  on  as  firm  as  the  comb  on  a  cock. 
And  me  appearing  in  this  armor— if  that  's  what  ye 
mean —why,  I  was  merely  on  me  way  to  Andy  Cog- 
gin's—" 

"  Listen !"  says  the  tall  young  man.  He  takes  a 
piece  of  paper  and  draws  a  triangle  and  a  circle.  "  The 


114  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

first  symptoms  of  losing  your  mind,"  says  he,  pointing 
to  the  circle,  and  in  a  loud  voice  as  solemn  as  a  lecture 
—  "the  first  symptoms  is  thinking  yourself  still  sane. 
And  the  next  step,"  says  he,  pointing  to  the  triangle, 
uis  thinking  your  neighbor  is  crazy.  For,  laying  all 
reason  aside,"  says  he,  tearing  the  paper  to  bits,  "  of 
all  authorities,  living  or  dead,  I  recognize  meself  as 
the  greatest  on  earth  concerning  inflammation  of  the 
nerves,  lunacy,  idiocy,  and  tomfoolery.  And  why? 
Because  to  perfect  me  knowledge  of  the  subject  I  went 
insane  meself !" 

"  The  divil !"  says  Clarence,  shooting  up  to  his  feet. 
"  And  that 's  what  's  the  matter  of  ye  !" 

"  Ye  7ve  hit  it  in  the  eye,"  says  the  youngster,  seem 
ing  all  full  of  enthusiasms.  "  For  instance,  suppose 
you  was  to  cover  both  ears  with  your  hands— if  your 
hands  is  big  enough :  now,  what  do  ye  hear  ? " 

"  I  hear  like  under  a  bridge  with  the  cars  running 
over,"  says  Clarence. 

"  That  ?s  what  you  think,"  says  the  youngster ;  "  and 
some  of  them  surgeons  of  the  mind  would  know  no 
better.  But,  in  fact,  't  is  the  first  sign  of  insanity. 
JT  is  the  maggots  ye  hear— at  work  on  your  brain,  and 
chewing  on  the  chain  of  your  thoughts." 

"  Bedad,  not  in  my  case,"  says  Clarence.  "  For  me 
own  head  is  on  as  straight  as  the  knob  on  a  door. 
The  reason  of  me  acting  perhaps  a  trifle  queer  when 
you  first  saw  me,  why—" 

"  Between  bottle  companions,"  says  the  youngster, 
as  kind  as  a  father  to  him,  "  ye  need  have  no  modesty 
at  all  about  your  condition.  Let  's  see  ye  cross  one 
knee  over  the  other." 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  115 

Clarence  crossed  his  knees  to  show  how  easy  he 
could  do  it ;  and  when  the  youngster  was  not  looking, 
Clarence  claps  a  hand  to  his  ear  again  and  hears  the 
maggots  working  there  again,  and  says  to  himself, 
bedad,  it  was  queer.  And  the  youngster  hit  him  a 
cut  with  the  sharp  of  the  hand  on  top  of  the  knee-pan, 
and  Clarence's  leg  flew  up  all  astonished  at  itself 
beyond  control ;  and  Clarence  says  to  himself,  by  the 
great  horn  spoon,  he  would  n't  let  his  leg  behave  that 
way  again.  But  as  often  as  the  youngster  hit  him  on 
the  knee,  up  flew  the  leg,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not. 
And  Clarence  sees  the  youngster  shaking  his  head; 
and  that  shook  the  peace  of  Clarence's  soul;  and 
says  he : 

"  What  would  ye  make  of  that,  doctor  ? " 

"  It  means,"  says  the  youngster,  "  that  ye  Ve  lost 
your  responsibility  complete  below  the  knee.  If  ye 
was  to  commit  violence  with  your  thumb,  the  eye  of 
the  law  would  regard  ye  as  criminal.  But  if  ye  was 
to  accomplish  evil  with  your  feet,  they  would  do  no 
more  than  examine  your  legs  for  insanity.  What  's 
the  matter  of  ye  ? "  says  he.  "  Is  your  cigar  too  strong 
f er  ye  ? " 

For  Clarence  had  put  down  his  goblet,  and  set  think 
ing  as  hard  as  the  maggots  would  let  him.  He  had 
found  something  wrong  with  his  eyes— they  would  n't 
seem  to  be  driving  in  harness  together ;  and  he  forgot 
of  the  wine  he  had  drained,  and  he  asked  himself  if 
7t  was  true  he  was  leaving  his  wits. 

"  Did  n't  I  start  out  all  intelligent  with  Sudd  Lan- 
nigan/'  says  he,  with  a  fall  of  the  voice,  "  to  get  a  plate 
of  beans  ? " 


116  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Dear  me  !  "  says  the  youngster,  with  his  face  like  a 
coroner's  jury,  "  I  hate  to  tell  ye,  but  you  ;re  getting 
rapidly  worse.  1 7ve  noticed  a  change  since  ye  come 
through  the  window." 

"  Worse,  ye  say— and  permanent?"  says  Clarence, 
breaking  out  in  the  brow  with  cold  perspiration. 

"  Upon  your  soul,  as  one  raving  maniac  to  another/' 
says  the  youngster,  "  can  ye  say  that  in  the  last  two 
hours  no  one  has  taken  exceptions  to  your  acts  ?  Am 
I  the  first  to  intimate  you  was  crazy  ? "  says  he,  pacing 
the  floor,  and  stopping  to  deliver  that  at  Clarence. 

"What  if  he  did?"  says  Clarence,  all  stewing  in  his 
collar.  "  It  was  only  me  best  friend,  Sudd  Lannigan, 
when  I  was  fighting  the  duel ;  and  he  ?s  a  dom  fool, 
anyway.  It  ain't  true,  and  I  ain't  crazy." 

"  It  ain't  true !"  says  the  youngster,  with  a  laugh. 
"  And  you  parading  Newport  at  this  hour  of  the  night 
dressed  up  like  that !" 

"I  tell  ye  't  was  pure  accident,"  bawls  Clarence. 
"  I  tell  ye  7t  was  nothing  but  absence  of  mind." 

" Absence  of  mind!  Absence  of  mind!"  says  the 
youngster,  from  the  other  room,  pointing  at  him. 
"That  ?s  what  it  is— for  your  mind  is  clean  absent 
and  gone,  like  the  meat  of  a  nut !"  He  gives  a  sniff 
of  professional  pride,  and  he  leans  up  ag'in'  something 
that  looked  like  a  sideboard ;  but 't  was  an  orchestrion 
inside,  and  the  youngster  pulls  the  handle  of  it.  "  Put 
your  hands  to  your  ears  ag'in,"  says  he,  "  and  listen  if 
the  maggots  is  any  better." 

So  Clarence  covers  his  ears,  and  the  orchestrion 
begins  to  play  the  music  of  "The  Turkish  Patrol," aris 
ing  more  and  more  in  the  distance,  till  ye  could  hear 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  117 

it  through  your  hands.  Clarence  starts  up  in  his 
chair. 

"  Say !"  says  Clarence,  "  where  will  that  music  be 
at  this  time  of  night?  Don't  I  hear  a  military 
band  ? "  says  he  to  the  blank  face  of  the  youngster. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  ye  think  ye  hear  something,"  says 
the  mock  doctor.  "  Each  crazy  man  has  delusions  of 
his  own.  I  once  believed  I  could  hear  the  divil  himself 
preaching  sermons  to  the  damned,"  says  he,  "and 
most  entertaining.  But  a  dishonest  lunatic  stole  the 
delusion  from  me  mind  with  a  bodkin,"  says  he,  "  and 
the  next  day—" 

"Whist!  That  is  music,"  says  Clarence;  "real 
music  !  Don't  ye  hear  it?  It 's  growing  louder." 

" Poor  man  !"  says  the  youngster.  "Do  ye  suffer 
badly?" 

"  I  tell  ye  it  is  music  !     Are  ye  deaf  ? "  says  Clarence. 

"  Deaf?"  says  the  other.  "  Sure,  me  ears  is  as  sen 
sitive  as  a  chronometer— I  can  hear  the  beating  of 
me  own  heart  in  the  middle  of  a  drum  corps,"  says 
he;  "but  I  don't  hear  any  military  band  at  this 
moment." 

"Ye  can't  hear  that— growing  louder  and  louder?" 
says  Clarence,  his  forehead  bursting  with  dew.  "  Now 
—now,  ye  do  hear  that,  doctor?"  says  Clarence,  clutch 
ing  him  by  the  arm. 

"There,  there,"  says  the  youngster,  all  soothing; 
"  don't  let  it  get  any  louder.  You  must  control  your 
self.  Take  some  wine.  I  command  ye  not  to  let  it  get 
any  louder !"  says  the  youngster,  pointing  his  finger. 

"Why  not?"  says  Clarence,  all  caving  in.  "Why 
not?— for  it  is  growing  louder.  I  could  swear— Holy 


118  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Mother,"  says  Clarence,  turning  round,  with  his  head 
behind  him,  "  I  could  take  me  oath  't  was  in  the  house  !" 

"Come,  now,"  says  the  youngster,  embracing  him 
tight,  "  hold  fast,  and  don't  let  it  get  any  louder.  If 
it  does,"  says  he,  "  't  will  burst  out  your  ear  and  escape 
from  ye,  and  the  world  be  full  of  illegitimate  notes. 
Be  a  man,  now !  "  says  he.  But  Clarence  could  n't 
stop  it.  The  Turkish  Patrol  was  arriving  in  front 
of  him,  and  smashing  the  cymbals  in  a  way  to  raise 
the  dead. 

"Ah  !"  says  Clarence,  with  his  eyes  starting  out  like 
a  horse.  "  Ah  !"  says  he,  with  a  dying  shriek.  Then 
the  band  begun  moving  away  again  and  going  round 
a  corner.  "  Oh !"  says  Clarence,  with  a  look  of  mild 
surprise. 

"  Is  it  passing  off  ?  "  says  the  youngster,  holding  his 
head.  "  Is  it  growing  less  f "  he  says. 

"  Yes,  maybe— maybe,"  says  Clarence,  sinking  back. 
"  Yes,  yes  j  I  think  't  is  passing  off,"  says  he,  in  a 
moment.  "  But,  doctor,  doctor,"  says  he,  drawing  a 
snort,  "  by  the  saints,  that  was  a  narrow  escape  !  The 
drum  of  me  ear  was  blowed  up  like  the  belly  of  a  moon- 
fish,  and  every  minute  I  thought  7t  would  explode. 
Dear,  dear,  what  am  I  coming  to,  anyway?"  says 
Clarence,  rolling  his  eyes  with  the  realization  of  it. 
"  Could  n't  ye  give  me  some  kind  of  oil  to  rub  on  me 
scalp  ?  "  says  he. 

The  young  man  sits  looking  all  grave  at  him,  and 
finally  shakes  his  head.  The  orchestrion  had  died 
away,  but  the  dew  was  still  standing  on  Clarence's 
brow.  He  reaches  and  gulps  a  half -bottle  of  wine  by 
the  neck. 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  119 

"  I  '11  forget  me  name  next,  I  suppose,"  he  mutters, 
clapping  his  hand  on  top  of  his  helmet.  "I  '11  meet 
meself  in  the  looking-glass  and  never  bow  acquain 
tance  !"  A  sob  came  bubbling  out  of  his  throat,  and 
it  turned  to  a  foolish  laugh  at  the  end  of  his  tongue. 

"Doctor,"  says  he,  "I  would  give  the  head  off  me 
neck  to  get  me  brains  back.  How  's  that  for  an  offer, 
ye  extraordinary  divil!"  Then  he  falls  away  sad 
again  •  but  in  a  minute  he  bursts  out  with :  "  Doctor, 
why  is  it  I  want  to  laugh  ?  I  would  laugh/7  says  he, 
"  till  I  burst  the  shell  off  me  back,  if  it  was  n't  irrev 
erent  to  me  misfortune  of  losing  me  wits." 

Then  a  terrible  pink  flush  swept  over  the  inside  of 
him  at  the  sound  of  his  silly  words ;  but  he  could  n't 
bring  what  reason  he  had  to  the  end  of  his  tongue. 
"Good-by  to  me  senses,"  says  he  to  himself ;  "good- 
by,  Sudd  Lannigan ;  and  good-by  the  ship  and  the 
crew  and  the  whole  sailing-match.  And  hello  the 
clink  and  the  mad-house  for  evermore." 

"  The  divil  take  you ! "  says  Clarence,  turning  on 
the  youngster.  "  I  'd  never  known  I  was  mad,  nor 
any  one  else,  if  I  had  n't  been  fished  up  through  your 
window.  But  if  it 's  mad  I  am,  then  mad  I  am— and 
I  'm  going  to  have  a  good  time !"  He  snatches  a 
Maori  war-club  from  ornamenting  the  wall.  I  'in 
thinking  the  twinkle  went  out  from  the  youngster's 
eye  ;  for  he  tries  to  lay  hold  of  Clarence  to  prevent 
him  from  wrecking  the  room,  and  the  tough  little 
man  shook  him  off  like  a  drop  of  water  on  a  dog. 

"  What  are  ye  doing  ? "  says  the  youngster,  with  his 
feet  clinging  to  the  floor.  Clarence  was  swinging  the 
war-club  over  his  head. 


120  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Doctor,"  says  he,  "  do  ye  see  that  elegant  crystal 
bowl  there  ? " 

"  What !"  says  the  youngster.  "  'T  is  worth  thou 
sands  of  dollars !" 

"Hurrah!'7  says  Clarence.  "I  '11  cut  it  into  ten 
thousand  dimes !" 

"Wait,  wait,"  says  the  youngster,  all  in  a  gasp. 
"  It 's  all  a  mistake— you  're  not  crazy.  Don't  smash 
that !  It  7s  me  father's  pet  bowl !" 

"I  'm  as  crazy  as  ever  was  made,"  says  Clarence, 
swinging  the  club.  "  I  never  saw  a  big  piece  of  glass 
yet  but  I  wanted  to  smash  it ;  I  suppose  it  was  me 
lunacy  growing  inside.  And  I  'm  going  to  smash 
that  bowl,"  says  he ;  "  for  they  '11  take  me  away  in  the 
luny-cart,  whether  I  smash  it  or  not." 

"Look  here;  as  a  personal  favor  to  me,— for  the 
wine  and  cigars,"  says  the  youngster,  throwing  himself 
on  Clarence's  bosom,  — "will  ye  kindly  put  down  that 
club  till  I  tell  ye  something?"  Clarence  puts  down 
the  club  to  lay  hold  of  the  goblet  on  the  table,  and 
the  youngster  whisks  the  club  out  the  window,  down 
the  coal-hole.  Then  the  youngster  draws  up  his  breath 
from  his  boots.  "  It  's  three  o'clock  and  time  to  go 
home  now,"  says  he,  giving  the  broad  hint. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  live  here  ? "  says  Clarence,  shaking 
hands  with  him. 

"  Yes  5  but  you  don't,"  says  the  young  man.  "  Well, 
I  'm  glad  you  enjoyed  your  wine  and  cigars,"  says  he, 
moving  toward  the  door.  "  And  I  '11  tell  ye  now  that 
you  are  no  more  insane  than  I  am." 

"  No,  for  I  could  n't  be,"  says  Clarence,  sitting  down 
in  a  chair.  "  But  I  'm  terrible  daft,  doctor,"  says  he, 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  121 

clean  puzzled  not  to  find  the  club  where  he  had  put  it. 
"  I  think  1 11  have  to  smash  that  bowl  with  me  hands," 
he  says,  staring  suspicious  at  the  youngster. 

They  looks  at  each  other  a  second.  What  Clarence 
would  do  the  next  minute  the  young  man  was  waiting 
with  terrible  fear.  He  hits  on  a  plan  to  be  rid  of 
Clarence  by  strategy. 

"  I  >m  sorry  to  suggest  your  going  now,"  says  the 
young  man,  "  but  in  fact  I  feel  a  fit  coming  on.  And 
when  I  have  me  fits,  then  I  7m  in  possession  of  the 
divil  and  the  strength  of  ten  men ;  and  I  might  have 
homicidal  intent  and  malice  aforethought  breaking 
out  on  me." 

"  Sure,  I  never  watched  a  fit  before,"  says  Clarence, 

settling  back  in  the  arm-chair  and  getting  his  humor. 

"  I  feel  it  coming  on,"  says  the  young  man.     "  Ye  >d 

better  go  and  leave  me  alone,"  says  he,  "  for  I  'm  apt 

to  murder  ye." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  would  I  be  to  go  and  leave 
ye  alone,"  says  Clarence,  "  when  by  staying  here  I  can 
prevent  ye  committing  a  murder?" 

"Ye  thick-skin !"  says  the  young  man,  grinding  his 
teeth.  "  1 11  put  it  this  way :  I  want  ye  to  go,  because 
I  ?m  bored  with  your  society.  How  >s  that  ? " 

"  Such  impoliteness  is  the  first  sign  of  your  fit,  I 
suppose,"  says  Clarence.  "But  I  'm  understanding 
ye."  Clarence  was  leaving  the  scare  about  the  music 
far  enough  behind  him  to  begin  to  get  back  his  heart. 
But  the  young  man  was  rising  in  rage. 

"  Oh,  look  here,  now,"  says  the  youngster,  "  what  >s 
the  matter  with  us  two  laying  this  nonsense  aside  and 
speaking  as  one  sane  man  to—" 


122  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  How  the  divil  can  two  raving  lunatics  speak  as 
one  sane  man?"  says  Clarence,  getting  riled.  "  Why 
don't  ye  go  on  with  your  fit  ? "  says  he.  "  Bedad,  if  I 
was  having  a  fit,  I  'd  have  it,  and  not  talk  so  much." 

"Shall  I  ring  up  the  police?"  says  the  young  man. 
"  Shall  I  have  ye  taken  away  by  force,  then  ?  Ye  poor 
fool,"  says  he,  from  the  bottom  of  his  wrath,  "  I  'm  no 
lunatic." 

"  Ye  poor  lunatic,"  says  Clarence,  "  I  'm  no  fool. 
It  just  strikes  me  this :  if  you  get  swinging  on  the 
chandeliers  here  with  the  strength  of  ten  men  and 
pull  down  the  ceiling,  then  the  blame  is  on  me.  'T  is 
better  I  ring  up  the  police  meself,  and  let  'em  take 
care  of  ye  till  your  folks  come  home." 

The  young  man  unlocks  the  front  door,  and  Clar 
ence  follows  him  to  the  hall. 

"There  's  the  door,"  says  the  young  man,  "and 
there  's  the  police  call.  Ye  can  use  the  one  or  the 
other.  But  if  ye  don't  go  in  two  minutes  it  will  be  I 
that  will  have  the  police  come  and  carry  ye  down  the 
steps,"  says  he. 

Clarence  looks  at  him  in  disdain,  and,  saying  no 
thing,  goes  and  pulls  for  the  police.  "  I  shall  tell  'em  to 
treat  ye  kind  and  harmless,"  says  Clarence,  all  calm, 
sitting  in  the  hall  chair. 

"I  shall  tell  'em  you -are  a  lunatic,"  says  the  young 
man,  planting  himself  sulky  in  the  chair  opposite. 
"  'T  will  save  explanations  and  serve  you  right." 

Clarence  sits  up  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  nigger. 
"  I  shall  tell  'em  you  're  the  same,"  says  Clarence. 

He  begun  thinking  that,  after  all,  't  was  not  such  a 
bad  evening,  though  he  did  feel  the  need  again  of  them 


CLARENCE'S  MIND  123 

beans  at  Andy  Coggin's.  And  the  more  he  considers 
the  more  he  says  to  himself  't  was  a  mistake  him  being 
insane.  He  'd  been  deceived  awhile  by  this  poor  luna 
tic.  But  no  matter.  He  would  get  the  credit  for  having 
saved  the  young  man  from  harming  the  elegant  gim- 
cracks  on  the  walls ;  and  the  least  the  old  man  of  the 
house  could  do,  thinks  Clarence,  would  be  to  give  him 
ten  dollars  and  recognize  him  next  day  in  the  street. 

"Bedad,"  says  Clarence,  whispering  to  himself, 
"  Sudd  Lannigan  thinks  I  've  been  arrested  for  going 
the  streets  in  disguise.  But  I  '11  get  the  police  to 
unscrew  this  armor  off  me,  and  then  I  '11  drop  it  some 
where  in  the  tall  grass,  and  the  man  that  owns  it  will 
not  take  the  trouble  to  hunt  me  up  aboard  me  ship. 
And  I  '11  have  the  laugh  on  Sudd  Lannigan  for  once, 
sure ! " 

Then  the  two  of  'em  heard  the  hurry  of  two  Burly- 
boys  on  the  gravel  walk  in  the  dark.  The  two  Burly- 
boys  pounds  up  the  steps  with  their  hands  over  their 
stars,  and  looks  through  the  glass  doors  into  the  hall. 

They  saw  on  one  side  the  young  man  standing  and 
pointing  at  Clarence  O'Shay,  that  sat  still  inside  of  his 
antique  armor-plate,  as  sure  and  smiling  as  the  tin- 
plate  trust.  Then  they  opens  the  door. 

"  This  man  is  crazy,"  says  the  youngster,  pointing 
to  Clarence.  • 

Clarence  gets  quiet  to  his  feet,  all  solemn  and  dig 
nified.  He  clears  his  throat,  and  gives  a  nod  to  the 
police.  "I  '11  explain  the  whole  story  from  end  to 
end,"  says  he.  "  This  evening,  at  nine  o'clock,  as  I 
was  pursuing  me  way  to  Andy  Coggin's  place  for 
the  purpose  of  taking  on  a  plate  of  beans— when— " 


UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  He  refuses  to  go,"  says  the  young  man,  "  and  I 
want  him  removed  from  the  house,  please." 

"  —taking  on  a  plate  of  them  beans  of  Andy's,"  says 
Clarence,  as  though  no  one  had  spoke,  "  when  me  and 
Sudd  Lannigan  was  picked  up  off  the  street  and  hired 
in  to  fight  a  duel  at  some  millionaire's  private  Punch- 
and-Judy  show  with  nothing  in  me  stomach.  And—" 

"  Come  along,"  says  the  Burly-boys,  clapping  their 
hands  on  Clarence's  wrists. 

"  What,  ye  lunatics  ? "  says  Clarence. 

"  Come  along  ;  that 's  what !"  says  the  Burly-boys. 

And  in  the  split  of  a  wink  Clarence  felt  himself  lifted 
as  by  an  earthquake,  and  carried  out  of  the  house  and 
down  the  steps,  gesticulating,  procrastinating,  and 
expostulating  from  the  soles  of  his  feet  to  the  top  of 
his  voice. 

The  next  minute  Clarence  was  the  main  considera 
tion  of  a  small  crowd  of  fly-by-nights  that  was  escort 
ing  him  and  the  police  to  the  station.  And,  bedad,  if 
we  at  Andy  Coggin's  had  n't  heard  him  passing  by 
and  riling  the  clouds  with  his  objections,  and  if  we 
had  n't  run  out  and  tore  him  in  the  dark  from  the 
police  to  a  boat  convenient  by,  and  pulled  for  the 
anchorage  of  the  fleet— why,  they  'd  have  had  him  up 
in  court  the  next  day  on  charge  of  losing  his  mind. 

But  the  minute  I  had  the  armor  off  him  and  throwed 
it  overboard— then  overboard  went  Clarence  himself, 
and  swum  for  the  shore. 

"  Where  ye  going?"  says  we. 

I  could  hear  him  grinding  his  teeth  like  nails. 

"  I  'm  going  to  Andy  Coggin's,"  says  he,  "  to  get  a 
plate  of  beans." 


THE   PROVING   OF   LANNIGAN 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN 


HERE  was  one  story  which  Lanni- 
gan  himself  has  never  told.  Once 
upon  a  day  he  found  himself  in  a 
steam-launch,  bowling  up  the  bay 
and  homeward,  at  high  tide  and 
twilight  and  spring,  with  the  crew  at 
military  silence  and  two  officers  in  lively  conversa 
tion  with  a  lady.  Lannigan  had  not  regarded  the  lady, 
though  the  rating  "  Al !"  had  been  whispered  to  him 
at  the  moment  she  stepped  aboard.  But  here,  as  he 
leaned  in  his  seat  and  dreamed  with  the  evening,  the 
flare  of  a  match  set  her  profile  sharp  against  his  eyes, 
and  started  up  a  thrill  in  Lannigan  that  kept  him 
gazing  long  when  the  soft,  compelling  features  had 
blurred  in  the  gloom  again.  Strange,  strange  !  Time 
had  been  too  busy  erecting  her  fortunes  all  these  years 
for  ever  a  touch  at  her  lovely  face.  He  settled  down 
with  his  head  in  his  hands,  seeming  to  stare  at  the 
keel  of  the  boat.  But  he  did  not  see  it,  and  he  did 
not  hear  the  beat  of  the  screw  or  the  rush  and  ripple 
of  the  waters. 

What  he  saw  was  the  wall  of  a  long,  deep  garden, 
and,  at  a  corner  hidden  by  trees  from  a  time-worn 
house,  a  girl,  who  leaned  over,  muffled  in  a  scarf,  lest 
he  might  discern  her  face  in  the  starlight.  What  he 

127 


128  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

heard,  in  this  night  of  June,  was  her  rich,  old-country 
voice,  with  a  bit  of  the  blessed  brogue  in  it,  and  a 
touch  of  the  heart,  he  thought,  and  a  quaver  of  longing. 

"  Then  why  will  I  never  see  ye  again?"  he  pleaded. 

"  If  I  disappeared  for  years,"  she  said,  "  I  'd  find  ye 
still  here  whistling  to  the  robins  every  morning.  Sure, 
ye  've  stolen  the  secret  of  happiness,  and  that  from 
some  girl,  I  think,  such  a  tongue  ye  have." 

"  Then  ye  'd  better  share  half  the  secret  with  me," 
he  said,  "  or,  faith,  ye  11  be  robbing  it  all." 

"  Now,  true,  if  I  thought  I  'd  never  grow  old,"  she 
laughed,  "  I  'd  scare  ye  for  saying  that.  I  'd  make  ye 
think  I  swallowed  your  blarney." 

"  What  's  growing  old  to  do  with  being  young?"  he 
said.  "Why,  the  pleasure  of  growing  old  with  you 
would  keep  a  man  young  forever." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  the  girl;  "for  is  n't  a  man  young 
always?  But  there  's  nothing  that  keeps  a  woman 
young,  and  there  's  plenty  that  makes  her  old.  And 
that 's  how  little  ye  know  of  us ;  for  I  believe  ye  never 
had  a  mother." 

"  Did  n't  I  have  a  mother,  though?"  said  Lannigan. 
"And  as  handsome  she  was  as  you  'd  be,  now,  if  a 
bat  would  steal  that  scarf  away.  And  she  never 
growed  old :  she  stayed  preserved  in  the  sweet  things 
that  none  could  keep  from  telling  her.  7T  was  she 
that  learned  me  how  to  read  the  heart  behind  the  smile, 
Mary  Travers ;  and  that  's  why  I  know  ye  like  me 
prayers,  though  ye  do  pretend  ye  '11  come  no  more  to 
the  wall." 

"Ye  child!"  said  Mary  Travers,  drawing  the  scarf 
more  tightly.  "  Ye  never  even  saw  me  face.  And 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  129 

if  ye  did,  ye  'd  pass  me  by ;  for  I  'm  the  ugliest  girl 
that  ever  slaved  for  a  living.  And  maybe  that 's  why 
I  'm  scared  of  to-morrow  night's  moon." 

"  Whatever  marble  you  're  made  of,"  said  Lannigan, 
"it  's  the  heart  of  burning  fire  inside  I  'm  knocking 
at.  What  's  a  face,  Mary  Travers  ?  Sure,  the  divil 
himself  is  a  handsome  man.  Ye  need  have  no  face 
at  all,  if  ye  like." 

"Oh,  with  such  a  tongue  inside  your  head,  ye  '11 
never  lack  a  roof  over  it,"  said  Mary  Travers.  "  Well, 
it 's  good-by  to  ye  j  and  when  I  'm  an  old  woman  I  '11 
remember  how  pretty  ye  can  talk  to  an  empty  face  at 
a  wall." 

"I  've  something  important  to  tell  ye,"  he  called. 
But  she  had  fled,  and  the  stars  looked  down  upon  his 
puzzled  countenance. 

When  he  returned,  the  following  night,  she  was  not 
there,  and  he  could  not  understand.  Their  dozen 
trysts  had  yielded  emotions  that  seemed  to  him  too 
inevitable  and  from  too  near  the  source  for  her  now 
to  keep  to  a  threat  of  absence  made  so  lightly.  He 
gave  a  robin's  whistle  and  hummed  a  snatch  of  a 
sailors'  chanty  as  he  walked  the  length  of  the  three 
inclosing  walls.  Then  some  one  in  the  garden  began 
tapping  with  a  trowel  on  a  flower-pot.  He  stopped 
and  called,  but  only  the  cold  wall  gave  echo  to  his 
greeting.  It  needed  the  brush  of  his  feet  retreating 
through  the  grass  for  the  trowel  to  cease  and  a  voice 
to  cry: 

"Don't  go!" 

"  You  're  there,  then,  Mary  Travers !"  he  said.  The 
trowel  resumed ;  his  words  seemed  to  have  fallen  on 


130  UttDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

deaf  ears.  When  the  trowel  paused  again,  as  he  waited 
in  doubtful  silence,  it  was  for  the  voice  to  say : 

"Here,  puss,  puss,  puss— don't  go  !" 

"So  it  's  'puss,  puss,  puss/  then,  Miss  Travers?" 
quoth  Lannigan.  "Well,  I  wish  I  was  a  cat— ye 
could  n't  drive  me  away.  Will  ye  never  cease  with 
that  trowel?"  he  cried,  after  an  interval.  "Did  n't  I 
say  I  wished  I  was  a  cat  ? " 

"  If  you  're  addressing  me,  sir,"  said  the  voice,  clearly 
and  frigidly,  "  I  'm  not  Mary  Travers  ;  and  I  'm  not 
concerned  with  what  animal  you  'd  rather  be.'7 

"Now,  what  are  ye  giving  me,  with  school-teachers' 
talk !"  said  Lannigan,  taken  with  what  appeared  the 
mischief  of  it.  "I  know  your  voice  too  well,  Mary 
Travers,  for  I  've  learned  it  by  heart,  me  friend." 

"  Excuse  me,"  came  the  voice,  crisply,  "  but  I  object 
to  being  taken  for  a  servant,  and  especially  for  Mary 
Travers ;  for  I  'm  like  her  neither  in  grammar  nor  any 
other  way.  I  'm  the  governess  in  this  house,  and  I  'm 
not  Mary  Travers." 

"  Then  why  are  ye  speaking  with  her  voice,  in  the 
garden  here?"  said  Lannigan.  "Ye  'd  object,  I  sup 
pose,  to  looking  over  the  wall,"  he  said,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  "  to  show  if  yourself  ain't  as  much  like 
Mary  Travers  as  your  voice  is  I " 

"Most  certainly  I  should  object,"  said  the  voice. 
"Do  you  think  I  'm  in  the  habit  of  flirtations  with 
casual  strangers  ?  Go  away,  sir  !" 

The  young  man  rubbed  his  brow.  Sure,  this  rude 
ness  did  not  sound  like  Mary  Travers.  What  were 
these  high-priced  phrases  and  this  mouthing,  and 
where  was  her  brogue?  He  had  to  accept  what  he 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  131 

heard,  though  with  astonishment.  It  was  not  the 
voice  of  Mary  Travers ;  he  had  deceived  himself,  and 
he  felt  silly.  Now,  nevertheless,  any  one  who  had 
looked  down  within  the  garden  would  have  seen  no 
"  governess  "  there,  but  would  have  seen  Mary  Travers 
—Mary  Travers  tapping  with  her  trowel  and  keenly 
listening  for  what  would  happen  next.  There  were 
stations  more  exalted  than  that  of  a  governess  for 
which  she  believed  she  could  conquer  or  cloak  her 
lack  of  equipment,  even  without  the  aid  of  a  wall. 
Already  she  had  so  schooled  herself  that  when  she  had 
talked  these  nights  with  Lannigan  her  brogue  had 
been  as  much  an  affectation  as  her  stilted  utterance  was 
now.  She  smiled.  She  was  succeeding  with  the  test 
she  had  put  for  herself ;  and  equally  what  pleased  her 
was  the  chance  she  was  gaining  skeptically  to  explore 
a  man's  unguarded  heart.  She  waited  while  he  kicked 
the  turf  and  muttered  his  chagrin. 

"Excuse  me,  miss/'  he  said,  to  make  amends,  "I 
did  n't  think  there  was  two  voices  in  the  world  as  fine 
as  yours.  Would  Mary  Travers  be  coming  out  to 
night?" 

"  Mary  Travers,"  came  the  voice,  "  is  not  employed 
to  be  drooping  over  garden  walls." 

"  ;T  would  improve  the  landscape  if  she  was,  miss," 
said  Lannigan  in  another  tone. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  esteem  the  girl,"  said  the  voice. 
"  You  are  evidently  that  sailor  she 's  talked  to  so  much. 
I  'm  sorry  for  you." 

"  I  had  n't  found  out  why  ye  need  be,"  said  Launigan. 

"  With  her  purring  ways  and  her  Irish  blarney,"  the 
voice  went  on.  "  They  gave  her  a  double  face  when 


132  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

she  came  into  the  world,  but  they  gave  her  no  heart 
at  all.  She  'd  sell  her  best  friend  for  a  chance  to  rise 
in  society.  She  's  not  worth  the  odds  and  ends  she  's 
glued  together  of." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss/'  said  Lannigan,  rag 
gedly,  "  but  could  n't  you  get  some  gentleman  acquain 
tance  to  come  this  side  of  the  wall  and  say  them  words 
to  me  about  Mary  Travers  ?  If  ye  'd  only  send  some 
one,— some  man  that  ye  would  n't  mind  if  his  friends 
brought  him  home  horizontal,  miss,— 't  would  help  to 
express  me  views  about  Mary  Travers." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  voice,  "  you  're  the  young  man 
that  works  and  sings  by  the  water,  there.  I  'd  heard 
such  pleasant  things  of  your  character  from  my  friends 
the  naval  officers  that  I  can't  understand  your  feelings 
for  a  common  domestic  like  Mary  Travers.  You  're 
much  too  good  for  her." 

"  There  ain't  any  man  too  good  for  her,"  came  Lan 
nigan.  "  And  she  has  her  friends,  too." 

"  Do  you  know  how  she  spends  her  wages  1 "  said 
the  voice.  "Why,  on  having  her  teeth  inlaid  with 
gold,  and  buying  rubber  gloves  to  keep  her  hands  from 
showing  her  trade.  Do  you  think  she  'd  look  at  a  man 
that  could  n't  lift  her  out  of  running  up  and  down 
stairs  for  a  living!  Of  course  not;  and  that  's  why 
she  as  much  as  told  you  to  go  about  your  business ; 
for  she  thinks  you  've  neither  a  bank  account  nor  a 
hope  to  get  one.  Some  day  you  '11  call  me  your  friend 
for  telling  you  that." 

"You  can  excuse  me,  miss,"  said  Lannigan;  "for 
no  friend  of  mine  says  anything  ag'in'  Mary  Travers. 
It  's  a  funny  kind  of  a  lady  that  talks  like  that  of  a 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  133 

girl  that 's  below  her  in  station  and  not  here  to  answer. 
Do  ye  think  I  did  n't  know  it  was  n't  her  voice  all  the 
while?  Ye  might  as  well  say  the  sun  don't  shine 
through  the  windows  at  church  as  say  there  ain't  a 
heart  behind  such  a  voice  as  Mary  Travers's.  Good 
evening !" 

He  gave  a  look  along  the  wall,  loath  to  leave  with 
out  some  sign  of  Mary.  There  was  an  interval,  and 
then  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  voice,  a  little  more 
softly  and  somewhat  constrained. 

"  Mary  Travers  is  such  a  goose,"  it  said,  "  that  when 
you  've  talked  to  her  a  bit,  I  suppose  you  make  her 
think  she  has  a  heart.  Good  night,  Mr.  Lannigan." 

Of  course,  as  he  went  home,  still  without  a  reason 
for  not  having  seen  Mary  Travers,  he  began  to  ques 
tion  if  what  he  had  so  indignantly  denied  did  not  con 
tain  some  element  of  truth  about  her:  he  had  met 
the  voice  and  withstood  it,  but  there  was  this  to  show 
for  the  impact,  just  as  there  was  something  that  had 
shown  in  the  last  words  of  the  voice.  For  his  part, 
the  notion  that  Mary  could  look  upon  men  with  such 
cold  inquiry  hurt  his  soul  as  a  base  intrusion  of  the 
sanctuary.  If  the  doubt  lingered  on  against  his  will, 
it  was  because  of  a  dawning  suspicion  about  himself 
as  to  whether  she  had  not  some  right  to  ask  for  aspi 
rations  more  solid  than  were  exhibited  in  his  humble 
post  and  his  joyousiiess.  The  thought  grew,  and  made 
keener  his  suspense. 

Mary  Travers  did  appear  at  the  wall  on  the  next 
night.  She  had  admitted  to  herself  that  she  had  no 
reasons  for  coming ;  so  she  came  without  any.  There 
was  a  bright  young  moon,  and  the  girl  shaded  her 


134  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

face  as  much  as  she  could  with  her  scarf,  and  stood 
in  the  deepest  gloom  of  the  lilac-tree. 

"I  was  out  here  last  night/7  he  said.  "I  was  talk 
ing  to  that  governess  girl." 

" What  did  ye  think  of  her?"  said  Mary  Travers. 

"  I  think  poor  of  her/7  said  Lannigan. 

"  But  ye  7d  know  she  was  a  lady,  and  that  without 
seeing  her,  would  n7t  ye  ? 77  said  the  girl. 

" Oh,  her  grammar  may  be  all  right,77 he  said,  "but 
wearing  diamonds  in  your  teeth  don't  make  a  happy 
home.  The  governess  is  no  friend  of  yours." 

"Why,  what  did  she  say?77  said  Mary. 

"  She  said  as  much  as  you  7d  throw  overboard  your 
best  friend  if  7t  would  help  ye  to  make  a  harbor.  She 
said  as  though  you  laid  so  near  the  ground  ye  could  n7t 
see  over  a  dollar.  I  want  to  know  what  ghost  of  a 
right  she  7s  got  to  talk  so,77  said  Lannigan.  "  It  7s 
made  me  want  to  ask  you  if,  after  all,  it  7s  made  some 
difference  with  you  that  I  don't  get  very  much  pay  and 
can7t  see  the  prospect  of  more  just  ahead  of  me." 

It  would  have  been  useful  to  answer  no ;  but  she 
wished  him  to  feel  a  touch  of  her  resentment  at  his 
want  of  eagerness  for  what  she  thought  were  the 
prizes  in  the  world. 

"Would  n7t  that  be  an  easy  question  to  answer?77 
she  heard  him  say.  "  Does  it  make  a  difference,  then  ? " 

"  There  7s  no  need  of  answering  it,77  she  said  at  last ; 
"  for  it  don't  make  any  difference  to  you.  I  mean  that 
the  governess  knows  the  man  in  the  next  house,  here, 
and  knows  1 7ve  promised  to  marry  him.  She  thinks 
you  ought  to  keep  away,  because  I  ought  not  to  be 
meeting  ye  here  and  him  never  hear  of  it." 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  135 

Lannigan  stood  motionless.  His  silence,  as  lie 
looked  long  and  steadily  up  at  her,  touched  her  con 
science  and  made  her  uncomfortable. 

"  One  woman  's  as  good  as  another,  ye  know/'  she 
tried  to  say  lightly.  "All  women  know  that,  and 
most  men  find  it  out.  The  girl  that  talked  to  ye  over 
the  wall  last  night,  if  she  'd  shown  ye  her  face— well, 
you  would  n't  be  the  first  that  pretended  to  lose  his 
heart  to  her  on  sight.  And  me— the  poor  housemaid, 

I  'd  be  forgotten.     Ye  seem  to  be  losing  your  tongue," 
she  said,  in  a  few  moments. 

"  No,  it  ain't  my  tongue  I  'm  losing,"  said  Lannigan. 

II  You  say  ye  've  promised  to  marry  this  man.     That 's 
a  bit  of  a  serious  matter.     Then  why  have  ye  come 
and  talked  the  way  ye  have  so  many  times  with  me, 
and  him  not  know  it  ?     Don't  ye  love  him  ? " 

She  felt  herself  diminishing  under  his  gaze,  but  she 
would  not  sink  to  humility. 

"And  if  ye  don't  love  him,"  said  Lannigan,  "why 
have  n't  ye  told  him  ye  don't  ? " 

"  Oh,  there  's  no  one  needs  fuss  but  I  '11  carry  my 
end  of  it,"  she  said  stiffly.  "And,  what 's  more,  I  'm 
not  afraid  but  he  '11  take  care  of  me,  and  save  me  from 
slaving  when  I  get  old." 

"  And  so  ye  '11  marry  him,"  said  Lannigan  j  "  and 
ye  can't  stand  there  and  say  ye  love  him  —you  that 
have  talked  so  free  to  another  man  under  the  dark ! 
It 's  because  ye  don't  love  him,  Mary  Travers." 

"He  '11  push  his  way  to  the  front,"  she  retorted. 
"  He  's  never  been  afraid  to  ask  the  world  for  what 
he  wanted." 

"Ye  mean  he  has  a  bank  account,"  said  Lannigan ; 


13G  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"and  ye  mean  that  me— I  ain't  got  nothing  to  rattle 
but  me  tongue.  But  if  that  's  all,  why  ain't  it  all  ? 
What  need  was  calling  ye  out  in  the  dark  with  a 
covered  face  to  ask  me  to  tell  ye  what  true  liking  was  ? 
What  do  ye  think  ye  '11  come  to,  for  committing  such 
forgery  ? " 

He  was  getting  away  from  her,  to  where  she  could 
not  reach  to  punish  him.  She  made  a  change  in  her 
manner. 

"  You  think  I  would  n't  keep  my  promise,  if  I  made 
it,"  he  heard  her  say,  leaning  toward  him.  "But  I 
will.  How  do  you  know,"  she  said,  softly  appealing, 
"whether  I  'm  not  keeping  a  promise— and  whether 
you  have  n't  made  it  hard  for  me  to  keep  it— harder 
than  you  know  ? " 

"How  do  I  know?"  repeated  Lannigan.  "Why, 
Miss  Travers,  it  's  nothing  to  me  what  ye  keep ,  for 
I  'm  not  leaving  anything  of  mine  with  ye.  Good 
night,  and  good-by !" 

She  heard  him  whistling  loudly  in  the  distance,  and 
he  had  never  looked  back.  She  summoned  what 
thoughts  she  could  to  dispel  the  scorn  he  had  left  in 
the  air.  Chief  of  them  was  her  belief,  which  he  seemed 
to  challenge  and  damage,  that  the  sentimental  needs 
of  a  man  were  more  constant  than  his  constancy. 
But  how  many  days,  she  angrily  said  to  herself,  if 
given  the  beauty  and  willingness,  would  Lannigan 
stand  against  some  other  woman  who  appeared  to  fall 
in  with  his  dreams  and  never  fell  out  with  his  apathy 
in  matters  of  advancement  ?  She  loosened  her  scarf 
and  fancied  herself  as  the  governess  again,  glowing 
upon  him  and  bringing  him  back  to  her  feet,  if  she 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  137 

chose,  before  she  had  opened  her  lips.  She  went  in 
and  lighted  a  lamp  before  her  mirror. 

He  had  laughed  and  expressively  kicked  an  old  shoe 
from  his  path.  He  had  torn  a  page  from  his  catalogue, 
and  he  believed  that  his  book  was  the  better  for  being 
the  lighter.  But  by  midnight,  in  the  silence  of  his 
room,  the  wound  was  flowing  freely  again.  The 
memory  of  his  mother  came,  suffusing  him  with  a  ten 
derness  that  spread  and  contritely  enveloped  the  girl 
he  had  left  at  the  wall.  For  him,  whatever  the  wind, 
it  was  not  to  be  bitter  and  brutal,  but  to  be  gravely, 
kindly  right ;  and  though  Mary  Travers  was  wrong, 
and  though  she  thought  slightly  of  him,  it  was  his 
own  lack  if  there  had  not  been  a  dignity  in  his  spirit 
so  high  and  firm  that  none  could  pass  without  acknow 
ledging  it.  He  tried  to  raise  his  head  proudly  upon 
this  basis  ;  but  it  only  invited  him  to  more  luminous 
contemplation  of  himself.  Return  to  earth,  and  what 
was  he,  after  all,  in  the  respect  of  which  she  had  flouted 
him  ?  Had  he  ever  had  a  higher  content  than  to  bask 
in  the  sun,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  a  jest  on  his 
lips  ?  All  those  phrases  with  which  she  had  flattered 
him  about  his  joyousness  and  habit  of  song,  it  had 
only  been  her  way— sweet  and  gentle,  he  was  in  the 
mood  to  call  it— of  suggesting  how  little  the  fire  of 
ambition  was  alive  in  him. 

Well,  he  exclaimed,  pacing  the  narrow  room  of  his 
quarters  in  the  lighthouse  station,  he  would  make 
something  happen.  Mary  Travers  was  not  married 
yet ;  and  if  she  felt  only  in  honor  bound  to  this  man, 
there  was  hope.  Let  her  bid  Lannigan  compel  the 
material  world  for  her  sake,  and  here  was  the  power 


138  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

to  do  it  bursting  his  sinews.  He  sat  down  to  be  calm 
and  decide  where  he  would  strike  first  to  develop  his 
fortunes,  and  the  pendulum  swung  back  from  fancy 
to  facts.  He  was  a  sea-dog ;  young  as  he  was,  he  knew 
in  his  bones  that  nothing  else  could  ever  be  made  of 
him.  He  had  never  traded  a  boot-lace,  except  at  a 
loss  j  and  the  main  item  of  his  assets  was  the  more  or 
less  worthless  promissory  words  of  blue- jacket  bor 
rowers  scattered  all  over  the  seas. 

Accumulating  riches  in  a  world  where  sick  men 
asked  in  the  streets  for  bread,  how  it  was  done  was 
past  his  fathoming.  And  for  lack  of  knowing,  he, 
with  his  long,  hard  arm  and  his  chest  of  iron,  was  to 
be  denied  the  woman  he  loved ;  he  was  to  bend  like  a 
slave  and  pay  the  tribute  of  his  heart's  desire  to  an 
other  man  who  owned  a  key  to  the  soulless,  inexorable 
mystery  of  wealth.  Here,  in  the  waters  where  this 
other  man  rode  triumphantly  and  bore  away  the  girl 
whom  Lannigan  loved,  Lannigan  seemed  to  be  sinking, 
deeper  and  deeper,  till  the  very  pressure  of  the  depths 
forced  him  up  again  to  his  place  in  the  scale  of  gravity. 

Once  at  Bar  Harbor  he  had  jumped  into  the  breakers 
and  brought  out  a  little  girl  who  might  have  drowned. 
Her  father  had  made  an  exceedingly  generous  offer 
of  reward.  Lannigan  had  said  that  he  would  be  com 
pensated  enough  for  his  wet  clothes  if  the  gentleman 
would  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him.  So  the  wine  was 
drunk,  as  between  gentlemen,  with  none  of  the  pa 
tronizing  in  their  conversation.  The  only  other  tan 
gible  outcome  of  the  affair  was  the  gentleman's  card, 
—he  was  a  politician  of  eminence,— which  he  gave, 
accompanied  by  an  offer  of  a  kindly  word  to  the  Sec- 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  ISO 

retary  of  the  Navy  should  Lannigan  ever  wish  it.  The 
card  was  still  in  Lannigan's  pocket,  after  three  years ; 
for  none  of  Lannigan's  mates  had  prevailed  upon  him 
to  invoke  its  promise. 

Now  he  sat  with  the  address  before  him  and  wrote 
three  awkward  letters,  asserting  that  he  considered 
himself  competent  for  the  duties  of  a  quartermaster— 
three  letters  which  he  tore  up  one  after  another,  each 
with  a  heavier  heart.  Adieu  to  his  pride,  he  felt,  in 
his  own  crude  fashion.  Any  man  who  was  a  man,  he 
told  himself,  would  have  made  the  dive  for  the  girl. 
There  had  been  no  risk ;  and  if  there  had  been,  for 
sooth,  should  an  impulse  that  rose  from  his  soul  to  the 
terror-struck  cry  of  a  child  be  hideously  turned  to 
advancement  and  coined  into  lucre?  But  he  wrote 
the  letter  again :  it  was  for  Mary  Travers's  sake.  He 
took  it  darkly  forth  and  dropped  it  criminally  in  the 
box.  He  would  have  given  much,  the  next  moment, 
to  have  it  back.  Once  more  his  spirit  rose  bitterly 
against  Mary  Travers ;  she  was  more  like  frigid  Fate 
than  flesh  and  blood  in  her  way  of  letting  him  pass 
from  her  life.  Of  the  regret  and  hope  and  fear  that 
lay  in  the  box  with  his  letter  he  would  have  spoken 
more  freely  to  the  governess  than  to  Mary  Travers. 

There  was  a  day  of  rain,  then  one  that  brought  sun 
shine  and  a  telegram.  Before  he  opened  it  he  had 
steadied  himself  for  a  rebuke  from  some  vague  source 
at  Washington.  He  was  astonished  to  find  that  his 
promotion  had  been  arranged  by  the  great  man  as  if 
with  a  gesture  of  a  busy  hand  j  and  he  was  invited  to 
write  again  when  he  needed  something  more.  So, 
then,  he  was  a  quartermaster.  If  the  fact  did  not 


140  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

restore  his  ancient  pride,  it  numbed  the  seat  of  the 
amputation.  That  evening  he  set  out  for  the  wall. 
There  was  a  heavy  burden  of  obligation  on  his  con 
science  toward  the  man  whose  daughter's  life  he  had 
saved ;  but  there  was  a  new  confidence  in  him,  and  he 
brimmed  with  things  to  say  to  Mary  Travers.  He 
specially  planned  the  unimportance  which  he  would 
give  to  the  news  of  his  advancement ;  she  should  see, 
he  said  to  himself  with  a  lover's  fierceness,  what  an 
ignoble  consideration  this  was  beside  affairs  of  the 
soul.  He  was  coming  with  fresh  ammunition,  and  he 
longed  for  the  fray. 

There  was  some  one  at  the  wall.  She  leaned  over 
expectantly  in  a  snug  cloth  gown,  shaded  by  a  hat  of 
vast  proportions,  but  illuminated  at  the  ears  and  throat 
and  fingers  by  rhinestones.  As  yet  she  stood  where 
the  moon  came  dimly,  under  the  lilac-tree. 

"  Is  that  you  or  the  governess  ? "  he  said.  "  For  I  Ve 
never  seen  either  of  your  faces." 

"  I  am  the  governess,"  said  Mary  Travers,  distinctly. 
"  Did  you  know  that  Mary  Travers  is  going  to  be  mar 
ried  right  away  ? " 

So  it  was  for  this  that  his  three  tragic  days  had  been 
preparing !  There  was  humor  in  it.  He  gave  a  laugh, 
and  picked  himself  up,  as  it  were.  Well,  he  would 
not  let  himself  appear  ridiculous  to  the  governess. 
There  was  something  he  liked  about  her— something 
a  man  could  grasp  if  he  wished  to  forget  himself. 

"  Yes,  I  had  an  idea  of  it,"  he  said  measuredly,  tak 
ing  out  his  pipe.  "  'T  was  a  nice  girl,  Mary  Travers." 

"  Oh,  she  was  n't  very  handsome,"  said  the  governess, 
mendaciously,  "  but  some  men  liked  her.  You  know 


THE  PROVING  OF   LANNIGAN  141 

you  made  me  angry  because  you  compared  her  to  me. 
But  I  don't  think  quite  the  same  about  men  as  Mary 
Travers  does  :  my  ideas  are  more  like  yours/7  she  said, 
without  a  blush. 

"  1 7m  glad  I  met  ye,"  he  said.  "  Most  girls,  nowa 
days/'  he  added,  with  the  philosophy  of  his  one  expe 
rience,  "  don't  have  any  ideas  about  men :  their  ideas 
is  all  about  money." 

"Not  the  right  kind  of  a  girl,"  said  the  governess. 
"  You  've  been  as  unlucky  as  I  was— up  to  the  time  I 
met  you."  She  moved  a  little  way  so  that  she  stood 
in  the  moonlight  j  she  looked  up  at  the  stars,  and  the 
beams  came  full  in  her  eyes,  and  the  beauty  of  sky 
and  trees  and  stars  was  lost  beside  the  beauty  of  her 
face.  "I  mean,"  she  said,  with  a  gentle  smile,  "that 
all  the  men  I  ever  knew— till  I  met  you— considered 
that  looks  was  what  counted  most  in  a  girl." 

"  Ye  know  why  ? "  came  the  young  man,  inevitably. 
"You  're  that  extraordinary  handsome  yourself  that 
the  men  can't  think  of  anything  else." 

He  received  a  look  of  childish  gratitude,  as  if  he  had 
solved  for  her  one  of  the  mysteries  of  her  life. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  1 "  she  said.  It  seemed  to 
mark  a  stage  in  their  intimacy.  She  sat  down  on  the 
wall  and  looked  at  him  admiringly.  "You  're  the 
kind  of  man  that  looks  terrible  deep  into  things,"  she 
said.  "  I  'm  thinking  you  could  keep  on  looking  right 
into  any  one's  heart,  if  you  wanted  to." 

He  was  so  engrossed  in  her  face  that  he  hardly 
heard  her  j  but  he  nodded.  She  seemed  to  accept  the 
nod  for  much  that  he  might  have  fittingly  interjected 
in  words.  She  sighed,  and  happily  smiled,  and  took 


142  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

off  her  hat,  exhibiting  her  profile,  with  all  her  hair, 
against  the  sky. 

"  Sure,  you  're  the  handsomest  girl  I  ever  saw !" 
said  Lannigan. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  "  it  might  make  a  difference 
to  Mary  Travers  whether  you  was  an  officer  or  not; 
but  it  would  n't  to  all  girls.  I  mean,"  she  said,  with 
apparent  difficulty,  — "  oh,  well,  I  guess  you  don't  care 
very  much  what  I  think  !" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Lannigan.  "  I  got  a  wrong  idea 
about  you  the  other  night.  I  want  to  make  me 
apology." 

Her  head  had  been  slowly  revolving ;  there  was  no 
aspect  of  it  in  which  she  had  not  equal  confidence. 

"Do  you  think  it  looks  friendly  for  you  to  stay 
there ? "  she  said,  turning  on  him  radiantly.  "Did  n't 
Mary  Travers  ever  care  enough  to  show  you  those 
spikes  in  the  wall  ? " 

Aye,  he  thought  to  himself  as  he  climbed  up,  to 
Mary  Travers,  somewhere  in  the  house  that  loomed 
beyond  the  trees,  he  was  like  the  melted  snows;  and 
here  was  a  woman  with  a  way  as  sweet  as  hers,  and 
with  other  attributes  which  Mary  Travers  did  not  pos 
sess.  No  one  in  the  station  of  a  governess  had  ever 
been  so  cordial  to  him :  she  made  him  forget  the  burn 
ing  of  his  heart. 

"You  're  not  bad-looking  yourself,"  said  the  gov 
erness,  now  that  for  the  first  time  he  stood  within 
touch  of  her. 

"  Do  ye  know,"  he  said,  sitting  contentedly,  "  if  I 
had  n't  been  coming  here  to  waste  Mary  Travers's  time, 
I  'd  never  met  you  ? " 

"  Then  you  can  apologize  for  the  way  you  spoke  to 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  143 

me  that  evening,  over  the  wall/'  she  said.  "Go  on— 
and  speak  from  your  heart,  if  you  have  one." 

She  hung  over  him  like  the  ripe  fruit  on  the  bough, 
and  he  held  his  knee  a  trifle  diffidently  in  his  hands. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "in  the  first  place— you  're  the 
handsomest  girl  in  the  world." 

He  was  surprised  by  the  quick  change  of  her  man 
ner.  She  sat  down  at  a  distance,  and  looked  away. 

"No;  I  've  heard  that  before,"  she  said.  "That 
does  n't  come  in  the  first  place  with  me.  That  is  n't 
what  I  wanted." 

"  But,  sure,  I  >m  chock-a-block  with  appreciation  of 
ye,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  When  I  say,  solemn,  l  I  'm 
your  friend/  I  could  n't  say  more,  could  I  ? " 

In  a  moment,  as  she  spoke  without  taking  her  eyes 
from  the  mound  that  raised  them  above  the  rest  of 
the  garden,  there  was  a  deep  sadness  and  resignation 
in  her  voice. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug  and  a  smile,  "  if 
you  can't  say  more— why— "  She  seemed  to  choke. 

"  Why,  what 's  the  matter,  me  dear  ? "  said  Lannigan, 
jumping  up. 

She  hurriedly  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  shook, 
as  if  sobbing  the  sentiments  she  could  never  speak ; 
and  as  it  was  Lannigan's  nature  to  fight  first  and 
explain  afterward,  so  now  he  found  that  he  had  put 
his  arm  around  her. 

"What 's  the  matter?"  he  said  vaguely. 

She  sat  up  and  pushed  away  his  arm. 

"You  don't  want  to  see  what 's  the  matter,  and  so 
you  don't  see,"  she  said.  "You  're  trying  to  let  me 
down  easy ;  but  you  can't.  Nothing  can." 

Her  utterance  seemed  to  fail  her  again.     She  knew 


144  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

from  his  silence  that  now  he  understood ;  she  waited, 
as  one  who  was  dumb  from  suffering.  The  seconds 
passed,  and  she  wondered  what  he  would  say. 

"  Ye  know  1 7m  only  a  common  sailor— a  kind  of  sea 
horse  ? "  he  said  at  length.  "  I  don't  savvy  the  game 
on  land,  at  all.  I  could  n't  take  decent  care  of  ye." 

"  I  'm  independently  rich,"  declared  the  governess. 
li  I  'm  only  being  a  governess  to  amuse  myself." 

"  Ye  know  ye  'd  have  no  more  friends  among  the 
officers  if  your  husband  was  only  a  common  sailor," 
he  said.  "  They  'd  make  ye  ashamed  of  me." 

"Oh!"  she  flashed.  "You  're  not  being  sincere. 
You  would  n't  let  anything  stand  in  the  way— if  you 
cared.  You  're  making  pretenses !  Why  can't  you 
tell  me  something  that 's  true  ? " 

She  seemed  at  his  mercy,  transfixed  and  helpless. 
All  the  mighty  love  which  he  thought  was  in  her  heart 
for  him  shone  from  her  pleading  eyes.  They  set 
themselves  upon  him  as  if  not  to  let  him  have  his  will, 
not  to  let  him  think,  but  to  bend  him  to  say  the  three 
words  that  always  afterward  would  be  her  trophy  of 
their  interview.  In  a  moment  she  saw  fit  to  look  down 
again.  He  had  taken  her  one  gloved  hand,  and  in  his 
voice  there  was  a  truer  tenderness  than  she  had  ever 
listened  to. 

"  The  truth  is,"  he  said,  "  I  can  be  a  petty  officer 
to-morrow,  if  I  want  to  accept.  And  you  're  the  hand 
somest  girl  I  ever  met ;  and  you  're  a  lady,  and  no  one 
ever  had  the  right  ideas  as  much  as  you.  You  seem 
to  be  all  I  've  dreamt  of,  and  more  besides  j  but,  you 
see,  you  ain't  Mary  Travers,  and  you  can't  be.  That 's 
the  trouble.  Good  night,  and  always  God  save  ye  !" 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  145 

He  had  jumped  down  from  the  wall.  She  watched 
him  disappear  among  the  trees.  She  was  full  of  emo 
tions  :  what  they  were,  what  she  wanted,  she  could  not 
tell.  She  only  knew  that  the  night  seemed  suddenly 
grown  chill,  and  that  she  was  uncomfortable  and 
unhappy,  and  that  something  was  lacking. 

His  pride  had  been  fortified  by  the  admiration  of 
this  beautiful  creature.  He  felt  the  strength  to  make 
a  showing  of  dignity  and  indifference  to  Mary  Travers, 
if  he  met  her.  When  he  purposely  passed  the  wall 
again  the  following  night  it  gave  him  satisfaction 
dimly  to  see  her  there  in  her  calico  gown  and  scarf 
and  to  send  her  a  cheerful  greeting  and  a  word  about 
the  weather  over  his  shoulder.  But  she  called  him 
back. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  up  here,"  she  said.  "  I  've 
this  to  tell  ye,"  she  began,  when  he  was  seated  and 
bore  himself  with  fine  neutrality :  "  the  governess  has 
left  town ;  you  '11  never  see  her  again.  And  I  'm  not 
going  to  marry  that  man." 

"  Why  not  ? "  said  Lannigan. 

"  If  you  don't  know  why,"  she  said  simply,  "  then 
no  one  does." 

So  he  kissed  the  one  place  on  her  cheek  that  was 
not  obscured  by  the  scarf,  and  he  was  glad  of  the  gloom 
of  the  lilac-tree. 

"Sure,  it  's  extraordinary,"  he  said,  pressing  her 
hand  as  if  it  might  dissolve.  "  Sure,  ye  Ve  given  me 
a  scare,  Mary  Travers,"  he  added,  in  a  few  moments. 
"  Me  heart  was  drying  up  inside  me,  dear  !  And  don't 
I  get  a  look  at  your  face  ? "  he  said,  after  a  while. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  said.     "  I  Ve  a  deal  else  to  confess 
10 


146  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

to  ye  before  I  confess  me  face.  So  you  're  going  to 
be  an  officer,  then  ?  Hurry  up  and  have  it  done  before 
we-" 

"  Before  we  're  married,"  said  Lannigan. 

"Yes,"  said  Mary  Travers ;  " for  I  've  thought  it  all 
over.  I  '11  make  a  big  man  of  you  yet.  I  know  how 
to  manage  people.  I  know  how  to  mesmerize  them. 
How  long  would  it  take  ye  to  be  an  admiral,  if  ye 
did  n't  have  a  wife  to  push  ye  ahead  ? " 

"  Sure,  not  till  I  've  gone  to  sea  in  another  world," 
said  Lannigan,  with  a  happy  laugh.  "  Ye  see,  I  '11  be 
only  a  petty  officer,  and  not  in  the  line  of  promotion 
—not  even  a  warrant  officer." 

"  Then  the  first  thing  is  for  you  to  get  ordered  down 
to  Washington,"  she  said.  "  He— he 's  a  reporter,  you 
know,  and  understands  how  those  things  are  done. 
He  's  told  me  everything  he  knows,  I  guess.  So  I 
shall  work  the  wires  to  have  you  put  in  the  line  of 
promotion." 

"  Sure,"  said  Lannigan,  with  a  twinkle,  "  ye  '11  have 
to  begin  with  making  me  a  boy  again.  But  we  '11  be 
that  happy  when  I  am  ashore  that  ye  '11  stop  bother 
ing  about  commissions  and  gold  lace.  When  we  're 
in  New  York  I  '11  take  ye  out  to  the  Park  every  Sun 
day,  with  a  glass  of  beer  at  the  eating-house,  and  ride 
back  in  the  elevated." 

"I  was  at  Coney  Island  once,"  said  the  girl,  remi- 
niscently.  "  And  once  I  was  at  that  swell  place  in  Fifth 
Avenue.  Tell  me  again,  why  can't  you  be  put  in  com 
mission,  and  get  to  be  a  captain,  and  all  that  ? " 

"  Because,  me  darling,"  said  Lannigan,  comfortably, 
"  I  ain't  got  the  education ;  and  I  'm  too  old  to  be  let 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  147 

into  the  Academy  to  learn  it,  let  alone  wanting  the 
pull  to  get  appointed  there.  But,  sure,  if  1 'm  in  com 
mand  of  as  fine  a  craft  as  you,  I  '11  ask  no  better  billet ; 
and  if  I  don't  keep  ye  smiling  through  life,  then  1 'm 
not  me  mother's  son." 

"  You  '11  have  to  give  up  the  navy,  then,"  said  Mary 
Travers,  firmly.  "  You  '11  have  to  drop  the  brogue, 
and  mind  your  grammar,  and  try  the  newspaper  busi 
ness.  He  makes  a  fine  salary  :  sometimes  he  gets  fifty 
dollars  a  week.  He  says  it  does  n't  take  much  brains ; 
he  says  it  's  mostly  in  your  feet,  if  you  have  a  little 
bluff." 

"  Think  of  me,"  said  Lannigan,  bubbling  over, 
"  interviewing  the  President,  with  me  hat  cocked  over 
me  ear !  No,  ye  '11  never  get  the  sea-salt  out  of  me, 
Mary,  not  with  patent  medicine.  But  a  corking  good 
petty  officer  I  '11  make,  or  there  '11  be  fun  with  the  gun 
crew.  Do  ye  want  to  marry  me  two  days  from  now, 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  ? " 

She  was  long  in  answering.  She  sat  with  folded 
hands,  looking  at  the  ground. 

"You  're  not  even  sure  of  being  a  petty  oificer?" 
she  said,  when  she  turned  to  him  and  he  saw  her  eyes 
in  the  depths  of  the  scarf  and  guessed  that  they  were 
blue,  like  the  governess's. 

"  I  could  n't  swear  the  papers  was  in  me  pocket," 
he  said,  with  a  twinkle,  thinking  of  the  surprise  in 
store  for  her  j  "  but  I  think  I  could  arrange  it,  if  I 
wanted." 

She  was  very  still  and  thoughtful  5  she  pulled  the 
scarf  farther  over  her  brow. 

"Will  it  be  the  next  day  after  to-morrow,  then?" 


148  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

he  said.  The  moon  was  showing  its  pale  warning  over 
the  housetops.  She  turned  her  back  to  it;  and  gazed 
deeply  out  of  the  scarf  at  him. 

"  You  do  think  a  lot  of  me,"  she  said,  as  if  it  had 
been  denied.  "  You  'd  better  come  and  take  me  away 
to-morrow,  not  the  day  after." 

"  Would  n't  I,  though,  if  I  could  !"  he  said.  "  But, 
ye  see,  to-morrow  I  'm  off  with  the  Lighthouse  Board 
on  inspection." 

"  You  'd  better  come  to-morrow,"  she  said. 

"  But,  ye  see,  it  's  orders,  me  girl,"  said  the  sailor. 
"But  I  '11  have  it  fixed  for  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Maybe  I  '11  have  a  surprise  for  ye,"  he  added. 

"  You  'd  better  let  the  orders  go,"  she  said.  "  You  'd 
better  let  everything  go,  and  come  to-morrow." 

"  But  ye  would  n't  have  me  found  wanting  of  me 
duty,"  he  said  gently,  "on  the  day  our  lives  begin. 
I  'm  a  soldier,  dear;  and  when  it  says,  l  Come !'  sure, 
that 's  what  it  means." 

"  But  lie  HI  be  back  to-morrow  noon,"  she  said.  "  I 
know  what  he  '11  say.  I  don't  want  to  be  there  to  hear 
him,  with  all  his  questions.  Come  to-morrow ! 
What 's  duty,  what 's  anything,  if  I  want  you !" 

"Ye  don't  understand,  dear,"  said  Lannigan. 
"Duty  's  everything— twice  as  much  for  the  rank  as 
for  the  file.  Ye  need  n't  be  afraid  of  this  man.  Give 
him  my  name  and  address,  if  he  wants  it;  but  face 
his  music,  and  let  him  have  both  ends  of  the  truth. 
'T  will  be  good  for  him  and  good  for  you.  'T  will 
help  pass  the  time  from  now  till  Tuesday.  Shall  I 
come  at  nine,  and  have  me  first  look  at  your  sweet  face, 
arid  be  married  at  noon  to  ye  ? " 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  149 

At  length  he  thought  he  felt  submissiveness  in  her 
sigh. 

"  Come,  if  you  still  think  I  'm  worth  it,"  she  said. 
She  took  his  head  in  her  hands ;  the  scarf  fell  away, 
but  she  was  too  near  for  him  to  see  her  eyes  and  what 
was  glistening  there.  "  I  hope  nothing  bad  will  ever 
happen  to  you/'  she  said  softly  and  truly,  "for  there 
never  was  any  one  so  good  as  you  '11  be  to  your  wife." 

"Sure,  Mary,  I  'm  anchored  in  the  haven  of  joy!" 
he  cried,  seizing  her  hand  and  holding  it  against  his 
forehead.  "  No  wind  that  blows  can  reach  me,  dear. 
Till  Tuesday,  then— and  me  mother  's  looking  down 
from  heaven  on  you  this  night.  One  look  at  your 
darling  face  now—" 

But  it  was  hidden  too  soon  in  the  scarf  ;  and  with 
a  pressure  of  his  hand  she  had  left  him,  and  was  hur 
rying  over  the  pebbles  of  the  path  to  where  the  light 
shone  at  the  window  by  the  doorway. 

There  never  had  been  another  such  Tuesday  morn 
ing  in  all  time,  he  thought,  when  the  day  of  duty  was 
past,  and  he  rose  to  the  joyous  chorus  of  his  brother 
robins,  and  put  himself  into  the  modest  new  uniform 
of  a  quartermaster.  He  felt  religious;  he  doubted 
whether  he  had  been  true  enough  to  the  faith  of  his 
mother  to  deserve  the  blessing  that  was  coming  to  him. 
His  friend  Mike  Shaughnessy  had  arranged  it  all  with 
the  priest  across  the  river ;  and  Danny  Thimblow,  and 
Haight  the  boatswain,  and  half  a  dozen  others  who 
were  at  home  in  one  church  as  much  as  in  another, 
would  be  waiting  there,  each  one  the  contributor  of  a 
loan  for  the  lining  of  Lannigan's  pocket.  He  had 
parted  with  some  of  the  money  to  two  "tired"  men 


150  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

before  he  was  fairly  on  his  way  to  Mary's  house.  He 
felt  in  love  and  pity  with  all  the  world.  And  his  heart 
swelled  as  he  thought  of  the  governess,  looking  out 
somewhere  upon  this  morning  with  feelings  in  such 
melancholy  contrast  to  his  own.  Speed  the  man  who 
was  worthy  to  please  her  j  and  if  Lannigan  ever  met 
her  again,  he  knew  just  what  he  would  say  to  show 
how  he  had  forgotten  the  night  at  the  wall. 

He  dropped  a  batch  of  letters  into  the  box— prom 
ises  to  send  photographs  of  himself  and  his  Mary  to 
friends  in  distant  parts  of  the  world.  Then  he 
turned  down  the  street  which  ended  at  the  old  house 
where  Mary  Travers  served.  There  was  a  quiet  gleam 
in  his  eye :  she  would  see  the  uniform  and  half  guess 
his  promotion;  but  she  would  ask  the  question  in  a 
flash,  and  there  was  something  exquisite  in  that  he 
would  now  see  her  face  for  the  first  time,  and  see  it 
smiling  with  pleasure  at  his  having  achieved  what  she 
desired  most  of  all  things.  He  discovered  that  in  his 
dreams  she  had  come  to  have  all  the  beauty  of  the 
governess  j  and  he  suddenly  warned  himself  that  he 
must  not  expect  so  much.  She  would  not  be  so  hand 
some  as  the  governess,  in  one  way,  but  she  would  be 
in  another ;  for  her  heart  and  soul  would  shine  in  her 
face  to  him. 

It  was  a  keen  moment,  almost  too  keen,  when  he 
rang  the  bell  and  looked  through  the  long  panes  of 
glass  beside  the  door  j  and  it  was  rather  a  relief  to  see, 
not  a  young  woman  coming,  but  an  old  lady.  She 
peered  seriously  at  him  for  some  moments  through 
the  glass  before  she  turned  the  latch.  This,  then,  had 
been  made  a  day  of  privilege  for  Mary,  and  she  would 


THE  PROVING  OP  LANNIGAN  151 

be  prinking  up-stairs.  The  old  lady  stood  regarding 
him  with  solemn  questioning. 

"  Will  you  tell  Mary  Travers  there  's  a  naval  officer 
to  see  her,  ma'am  ? "  said  Lannigan,  in  a  voice  he  knew 
would  reach  the  upper  stories. 

"Will  you  come  in?"  said  the  old  lady,  after  a 
moment's  pause.  She  led  the  way  to  the  drawing- 
room.  Her  manner  left  him  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
she  was  inconvenienced  by  the  loss  of  Mary  Travers 
or  generously  solicitous  for  her,  and  about  to  cross- 
examine  him  concerning  his  history  and  character. 
"Is  your  name  Lannigan?"  she  asked,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  him,  yet  hardly  at  ease. 

"It  is,  ma'am,"  he  said,  with  his  broad  smile. 
"  Ye  '11  agree  I  'm  the  most  fortunate  man  in  the  world 
to-day." 

"  If  I  understand  what  has  happened,  I  ivill  agree," 
said  the  old  lady,  with  some  force.  "  Had  you  known 
Mary  Travers  long  ?  " 

"  I  've  known  Mary  Travers  well,  ma'am,"  said  Lan 
nigan.  "And  that  's  often  a  good  deal  better  than 
long." 

There  was  something  the  old  lady  was  trying  to  read 
in  his  face  and  could  not.  In  a  moment  she  broke 
out  painfully : 

"  Then,  if  you  've  known  her  so  well,  can  you  explain 
to  me  what  she  's  done  ? " 

"  I  think  I  see,  ma'am/'  said  Lannigan,  with  quick 
sympathy.  "Mary  has  n't  talked  enough."  He 
looked  to  the  door.  Doubtless  the  girl  was  listening 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  but  he  wrould  say  what  he 
thought.  "Mary  's  all  right,  ye  know,  at  the  heart; 


1T>2  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

but  she  don't  always  understand  that  she  ought  to 
speak  out  a  little  straighter.  She  's  gone  the  way 
her  heart  pointed— that  's  all;  I  know  that  's  true," 
he  said,  with  proud  dignity.  "  And  no  matter  who  it 
hurts,  ye  would  n't  ask  any  girl  to  do  different,  would 
ye,  ma'am  ? " 

The  old  lady  could  not  frown  through  the  mystery 
that  confronted  her  in  his  face.  She  looked  away  and 
shook  her  head. 

"  If  you  tell  me  that,  I  ought  to"  believe  it,"  she  said, 
pressing  her  thin  lips.  "  But  I  don't  believe  it,"  she 
followed,  with  conviction.  Her  eyes  filled.  "  I  took 
Mary  Travers  when  she  was  a  little  girl,"  she  said. 
"  Considering  what  I  ;ve  been  to  her,  she  might  have 
treated  me  differently — she  might  have  told  me  about 
this." 

Lannigan  nodded  gravely.  Mary  had  been  wrong  • 
Mary  should  have  been  more  straightforward,  and  it 
was  his  duty  to  demand  that  she  should  be— his  duty 
as  the  one  who  loved  her  most. 

"  I  understand,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  Now,  ye  see  I  've 
arranged  to  take  the  train  in  fifteen  minutes  from  now. 
Let 's  call  Mary  down  here.  I  '11  tell  her  she  's  got  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  you,  from  beginning  to 
end.  You  've  been  her  best  friend,  ma'am— and  she 
ought  never  to  forget  that." 

He  rose  and  looked  suggestively  toward  the  door. 
The  old  lady  had  followed  him  with  strained  attention, 
still  baffled.  Then  she  spoke. 

"  I  did  n't  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  They  did  n't  come 
back  here." 

He  looked,  startled,  into  her  dim,  set  eyes. 


THE  PROVING  OF  LANNIGAN  153 

"They  did  n't  come  back  here?"  he  said.  He 
glanced  around  the  room.  The  old  lady  stared  at  him 
still  painfully,  still  incomprehensively,  but  without 
speaking.  The  house  was  silent  and  empty. 

"They  did  n't  come  back  here?"  he  heard  himself 
repeating.  He  stared  back  at  her;  the  pictures  011 
the  wall  seemed  to  whirl  about  the  center  where,  half 
frightened  and  half  stupid,  she  sat  motionless. 

"  They  have  n't  even  left  an  address,"  she  said. 

"  Oh  !"  he  said  colorlessly. 

"She  married  him  yesterday,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  She  said  it  was  to  keep  her  promise.  I  know  she 
never  cared  for  him.  It 's  her  ambition,"  said  the  old 
lady,  choking.  "  She  has  n't  been  fair— to  him  or  me, 
or  to—" 

She  looked  at  Lannigan  inquiringly. 

"STAND  by,  there  !*  growled  the  launch-captain. 
Lannigan  brought  the  nose  of  the  launch  to  the  land 
ing  with  his  boat-hook.  The  captain  handed  the  beau 
tiful  one  ashore.  She  smiled  and  passed  under  the 
electric  light,  in  her  silks  and  snowy  gloves,  carrying 
a  bunch  of  lilacs.  For  an  instant  her  eyes  met  Lan- 
nigan's.  If  they  remembered  him,  if  they  recognized 
him,  there  was  not  a  quiver  of  a  muscle  about  her 
mouth. 

"And  that  was  the  governess,"  said  Lannigan  to 
himself.  "Aye,  handsome  she  was;  and  the  smell  of 
them  lilacs !  I  wonder  if  she  knows  what  become  of 
Mary  Travers— poor  Mary  dear,  that  married, the  other 
man  because  she  'd  promised  him !" 


HELP  FROM  THE   HOPELESS 


HELP   FROM   THE  HOPELESS 

CAN  see  meself  a-stalking  round  the 
bend,  with  me  face  the  color  of  lead 
and  me  fists  like  iron  balls,  praying 
sulphur  flames  for  some  strong  man 
to  beat  the  Satan  out  of  me.  But 
they  stood  at  the  door  of  the  church 
and  they  smiled  in  their  cotton  gloves,  each  with  his 
boots  a-dazzle  and  a  posy  in  his  coat.  And  they  saw 
me  coming  down  the  slope  with  the  world  blowed  clear 
to  smithereens  and  the  set  of  me  jaw  like  death  j  but 
their  hides  was  thick  as  crocodiles.  And  Finny  Sud- 
bury  he  blurted  out  with : 
"  Where  >s  the  bride?" 

"  Where  is  the  bride  ? "  says  Hennessy.  "  Have  ye 
changed  your  mind— and  the  parson  asleep  on  his  book 
inside  and  the  violets  lost  their  smell  ?  Where  is  the 
bride  ? » 

"  Bride !  There  '11  be  no  bride,"  says  I,  with  a  jerk 
at  the  swinging  door.  "  There  '11  be  no  bride/'  says 
I,  to  the  lights  a-streaming  on  the  pews.  "  Ye  blither 
ing  idiots,"  says  I,  defending  them  from  the  church 
like  the  divil  himself,  "  go  back  to  your  ships,  and 
never  come  ashore  where  women  are." 

"Why,"  says  the  Portegee,  with  his  grin,  "she  's 
give  him  the  mitten!"  And  he  winked  to  the  rest; 

157 


158  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

but 't  was  me  they  saw,  and  they  closed  him  round  and 
hustled  him  quick  away.  "  We  ain't  got  nothing  more 
to  say/7  says  the  nigger  Jones;  "and  we  're  going 
right  back  to  the  ship/'  he  says,  throwing  his  posy 
down  in  the  dust.  They  opened  apart  for  me  to  pass 
—the  church  and  the  grass  a  white-green  streak 
a-swirling  round  me.  I  tried  to  speak  a  decent  word ; 
but  me  lungs  was  filled  to  bursting.  The  parson  put 
his  head  to  the  crack  of  the  door,  and  I  shook  me  fist 
at  his  nose ;  and  what  he  heard  me  say  was :  "  Damn 
the  female  kind !"—  that  young  I  was. 

I  cut  a  wake  through  the  sprouting  fields.  The 
farmers'  wives  bawled  out  to  me ;  their  children  run 
as  though  they  'd  seen  the  bogy-man.  But  I  did  n't 
know  where  I  was  bound,  nor  I  did  n't  care.  Straight 
before  the  wind  I  stalked,  through  woods  and  swamps 
till  the  sun  swung  round  to  afternoon.  And  every 
hour  my  grief  and  rage  went  double  with  thinking. 
Till  I  stood  'twixt  the  wind  and  the  sea,  and  I  had  to 
stop ;  but  I  would  not  turn ;  and  I  give  a  groan  like 
a  passing  soul  for  something  horrible,  out  of  sea  or 
land,  that  I  could  prove  meself  a  man  ag'in,  though 
it  made  an  end  of  me.  But  there  was  nothing.  Only 
a  big  and  brawny  man  was  all  I  saw,  sitting  on  a  rock 
and  staring  over  the  surf.  His  face  was  hard  and  set 
as  mine,  and  a  minute  I  stood  in  front  of  him  and 
blocked  his  view.  But  he  would  not  speak  nor  look 
at  me.  I  give  a  laugh  and  paced  the  sand,  thinking 
of  Mary  Travers,  always  of  Mary  Travers.  But  the 
sea,  I  said,  should  never  mock  and  stop  me  as  the 
woman  had.  For  here  sails  a  fisherman  hugging  the 
lee  of  the  bluff. 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  159 

"  That  wash- tub  you  're  floating  in/7  says  I,  "  what 
buys  it  ?  " 

"  You  're  joking,"  says  he,  "  for  this  sloop  is  cheap 
at  all  the  money  you  've  got." 

"  It  ain't  worth  the  breeze  to  blow  it  to  the  bone- 
yard/7  says  I  j  "  but  here  's  the  lining  of  me  pockets." 

He  got  ashore  and  grabbed  my  money  and  made 
for  the  bank  above  the  strand.  "  Ye  'd  best  keep  out 
of  a  gale  with  her/7  says  he,  with  his  thumb  at  the 
white-caps.  "She  needs  a  bit  of  calking,"  he  says, 
with  a  grin,  moving  away,  "  and  maybe  some  planking 
here  and  there.  She  won't  stand  up  ag'in7  this  gale 
with  that  rotten  pole,  ye  know,"  he  says,  edging  his 
way  to  safety.  I  stood  up  in  her  leaky  bottom  and 
hurled  her  scrap  of  an  anchor  at  his  head— if  it  hit 
him  I  never  knowed.  "  For  it  7s  Nick  for  a  pilot  and 
hell  for  a  port,"  I  sung  in  me  hollow  heart,  "  and  never 
a  whine  from  me  !"  I  would  keep  on  before  the  wind, 
says  I  to  meself — split  planks  and  splintered  stick  the 
merrier— till  I  found  my  medicine.  And  good-by  to 
the  land  where  Mary  Travers  trod,  forever  if  need  be. 
I  jabbed  an  oar  in  the  sand.  Something  held  me  from 
floating  off.  7T  was  that  brawny  man  that  had  sat  on 
the  rock  and  stared  at  the  sea. 

"  Say,  friend,"  says  he. 

"  Holy  Mother  of  God !"  says  I,  "  have  you  waked 
up  to  tell  me  what  I  '11  do?  Shall  I  get  out  in  the 
sand  with  you,  or  in  the  water,  or  underneath — oh, 
speak  the  word  !"  says  I. 

He  wa&  looking  mild  and  firm  apast  me  shoulder; 
and  athwart  his  back  I  see  a  little  harp  was  slung. 

"  What  proof  would  we  make  with  our  fists  ? "  says 


100  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

he.  "If  you  want  to  know  who  's  afraid  of  death, 
take  me  in  your  boat.  I  Ve  heard  it  in  your  voice, 
you  know/'  says  he.  "  You  're  going  afloat  in  a  sink 
ing  craft,  and  you  don't  care  what  nor  where.  For 
pity's  sake  take  me  along ;  for  my  port  is  the  same  as 
yours." 

"What,  ship  with  a  poet  and  his  harp?"  says  I. 
"  Why,  I  'd  throw  ye  into  the  sea  for  one  mistake  in 
your  grammar.  Let  go  my  rail !" 

"  I  can't,"  says  he,  with  his  leg  aboard.  "  There  's 
better  room  for  two  than  one;  and  I  will !" 

I  swore  by  the  cloven  toe,  and  I  laid  me  hands  in 
the  pipe  of  his  wind,  till  we  found  ourselves  cross- 
clasped,  me  in  my  slippery  bilge  and  him  in  the  sand 
and  water.  And  we  neither  could  speak  till  by  com 
mon  consent. 

"  You  're  afraid  to  sail  in  your  leaky  boat,"  says  he, 
"  and  you  don't  want  me  to  know  it." 

"  I  am  ? "  says  I.  "  There  's  a  rock  out  there  behind 
the  sky ;  and  there  's  where  I  '11  be  to-night  if  this 
colander  holds  together.  And  there  I  '11  stay  till  the 
powers  give  answer  to  me  troubles.  I  'm  thinking 
you  'd  starve  before  the  answer  come." 

"  Nothing  worse  than  starving  ? "  says  he.  "  You  '11 
leave  me  on  that  rock  alone,  if  I  wait  for  an  answer  to 
what  troubles  me.  Oh,  let  me  in  !"  says  he. 

"  This  craft  is  a  rotten  coffin,"  says  I.  "  'T  will  split 
away  in  the  gale  to  kingdom  come,  and  that  '11  be 
your  answer." 

"  What,  nothing  worse  than  a  drifting  corpse  ? "  says 
he.  "  Take  me  to  steer  and  I  '11  show  the  fear  of  God 
to  you." 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  161 

"Lay  for'ard,  then,"  says  I.  "I  'm  skipper  here; 
and  you  '11  learn  a  new  tune  to  your  harp  'twixt  now 
and  ye  touch  dry  land  again." 

"  So  bless  your  soul !"  says  he.  He  crouched  ahold 
of  the  mast  and  set  his  eyes  to  the  sea. 

The  gale  mowed  down  the  grass  on  the  bluff  and 
drove  the  spray  athwart  the  swell  and  carried  me  and 
my  leaky  craft  before  it.  "  ;T  is  the  wind  of  Mary 
Travers's  wish,"  says  I,  "  and  it  says :  t  Away  with  you, 
Sudd  Lannigan— and  never  come  back!'"  But  I 
looked  no  more  behind.  We  cut  a  streak  in  the  roll 
ing  surge,  and  the  water  bubbled  through  the  seams 
and  rose  above  my  heels.  But  all  I  saw  was  a  tree 
and  a  moon  and  the  shape  of  Mary  Travers  in  the 
gloom.  I  felt  me  arm  around  her  waist  and  the  touch 
of  her  hair  across  my  cheek;  and  my  love  was  hate 
and  my  hate  was  love,  till  I  wanted  to  cry  aloud : 
"  How  could  ye,  Mary  Travers  !"  Aye,  she  was  sailing 
a  leakier  craft  than  mine :  for  she  did  n't  love  him, 
and  I  knowed  it,  as  I  know  it  to  this  day. 

The  land  growed  gray  at  north  and  south ;  the  sky 
closed  down  like  the  lid  of  a  boiling  pot  and  the  water 
rose  above  the  floor ;  but  I  made  no  move  to  bail. 
Away  in  the  tossing  spray  I  saw  the  ledge  where  I  was 
bound,  not  five  points  off  the  wind  or  my  mast  would 
have  snapped  with  laying  for  it.  I  remembered  I  had 
a  passenger :  he  knelt  with  his  little  harp  across  his 
back,  and  never  a  stir  nor  a  word. 

"  I  'm  swinging  my  boom,"  says  I. 

"  I  hear,"  says  he. 

"  Then  maybe  ye  '11  learn  to  see,"  I  snarled  when 
the  boom  come  round  and  tapped  his  head. 


11 


162  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  Maybe  in  the  world  to  come,"  says  he,  still  looking 
before  him. 

"  Are  ye  blind?"  I  roared. 

"Yes,  this  many  a  month,"  says  he;  "as  blind  as 
two  blue  stones." 

"  Oh,  ye  found  your  way  to  my  gun'le  quick  enough," 
says  I. 

"  By  sense  of  sound,"  says  he.  "  If  the  sun  turned 
square  1 7d  never  know." 

"Then  praise  your  luck,"  says  I;  "for  it  makes  ye 
safe  from  seeing  the  female  kind.  And  here  you  groan 
of  being  blind !" 

"  Did  I  groan  for  being  blind  ? "  says  he.  "  But  no 
woman  could  do  me  harm— if  I  had  my  eyes." 

"Who  never  boasted  the  same?"  says  I.  "But 
they  '11  blow  an  honest  man  to  the  shape  they  please, 
like  a  bubble  of  glass ;  and  let  him  cool  in  the  turn  of 
a  night  and  drop  to  smithereens.  For  there  never 
was  a  woman  and  a  conscience  sewed  together,"  says 
I— that  young  I  was.  He  turned  his  face  away  again, 
and  give  a  sigh. 

"'T  is  only  that  with  you,  then !"  he  says. 

The  man  had  no  soul  to  him,  I  mutters :  he  was 
hungered  a  bit,  and  tired  of  twanging  his  harp  for 
bread.  And  me,  with  my  holy  thoughts  of  Mary  Tra- 
vers— why,  he  laid  that  close  to  the  ground  he  could  n't 
understand.  He  felt  the  smooth  water  under  the  Ice 
of  the  reef,  and  the  gulls  went  screaming  off  and  left 
us  all  alone  'twixt  sky  and  water.  "It  's  the  rock," 
he  says,  with  a  touch  of  a  smile. 

"  Yes,"  says  I ;  "  and  a  gale  of  prayers  won't  blow 
ye  back  ashore  in  this  old  scow.  Ye  '11  think  twice, 
maybe,  before  ye  stow  away  in  a  sieve  again." 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        163 

"  Have  you  done  with  her  ?  Are  you  going  to  take 
to  the  rock?"  says  he.  "Then  give  her  to  me 5  give 
me  the  sheets  and  point  her  away  to  the  sky-line." 

"  I  'in  holding  her  nose,"  says  I.  "  Now  pick  your 
way  to  the  top  of  the  reef." 

"No;  let  me  stay,"  he  says.  "You  've  only  got  a 
trifle  of  mulligrubs ;  but  I  belong  to  the  devil's  dump 
ing-ground,  and  my  soul  is  overdue.  You  must !"  he 
says,  ahold  of  me. 

"  I  must  ? "  says  I,  all  mad  with  the  feel  of  anything 
that  balked  me.  He  tried  to  push  me  back,  and  I 
fetched  his  head  with  a  cruel  jar  ag'in'  the  rail,  and  he 
rose  all  meek  and  trembling,  the  blood  a-streaming 
down  his  face— a  bigger,  broader  man  than  me  made 
like  a  slave  because  he  could  n't  see  how  I  had  come 
at  him.  I  bit  me  lips  with  shame  of  meself  when  I 
saw  him.  He  picked  his  way  across  the  seaweed ;  he 
slipped  and  fell  on  the  jagged  rocks  and  made  more 
rags  in  his  clothes.  But  still  he  followed  me,  with 
his  hands  all  raw  from  barnacles.  Had  Mary  Travers 
sensed  what  a  brute  I  could  be  ?  And  that  was  why 
she  'd  cut  away  from  me— and  me  deserving  it? 

"  Sit  down,"  says  I,  all  harsh  with  hate  of  meself, 
"  and  don't  you  claim  to  know  what  misery  is  when 
you  sail  with  me— that 's  all.  Can't  ye  wipe  the  blood 
from  your  face  ?  "  says  I,  between  me  teeth.  He  makes 
no  sound.  He  only  untied  the  bag  from  his  back  and 
set  his  harp  all  naked  in  the  wind.  The  gold  of  it 
doubled  the  gloom  about  us.  He  wiped  his  face  with 
the  bag,  all  patiently;  and  the  wind  went  moaning 
through  the  strings  of  the  harp,  to  a  tune  of  evil  fate. 
I  felt  like  howling  like  a  dog ;  and  what  did  I  do  but 
burst  in  tears  like  a  baby. 


164  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

He  heard  me  sniffling,  try  as  I  might,  "  Ton  're 
young,"  he  says,  by  and  by.  "I  suppose  you  meant 
well  enough.  You  are  not  a  father  yet  ? "  he  says,  in 
a  bit.  "No  son— and  no  woman  tied  to  your  neck 
to  grind  your  heart  against  the  stones  !" 

"  I  'm  not  worth  it,"  says  I. 

"And  your  conscience  is  clear  of  crime?"  he  says, 
all  puzzling. 

"  I  never  did  anything  worse  than  strike  a  blind 
man,"  says  I,  like  a  girl. 

He  was  still  awhile  j  then  he  give  a  laugh.  "  And 
you  call  that  misery  !"  says  he.  Some  kind  of  a  day 
light  ghost  seemed  to  take  it  up  on  the  harp  and  play 
it  over  and  over  again,  to  the  moan  of  the  whistling 
buoy  that  was  warning  everything  away  from  us.  I 
was  learning  then  how  far  it  is  from  a  woman's  kiss 
to  a  grim,  gray  rock  in  the  sea. 

"  Bag  that  harp  and  tell  me  your  yarn  !"  says  I.  "  I 
ain't  the  ruffian  you  've  pictured  in  your  mind.  My 
heart  is  broke,  that  's  all,  me  friend ;  and  what 's  your 
yarn  ? " 

"About  me?"  says  the  blind  man.  His  two  dead 
eyes  stared  over  the  blank  of  waters ;  but  soon  a  weary 
smile  come  over  his  mouth. 

"You  11  have  me  talking  of  little  Davy— my  boy," 
he  says,  half  wistful  j  "  and  then  I  won't  know  how  to 
stop.  For  I  '11  think  he 's  here  where  I  can  touch  my 
hand  to  his  little  face,  and  I  '11  be  a  fool.  Then  I  '11 
wake  up  and  remember  what 's  happened — that 's  what 
you  '11  bring  me  to."  But  he  did  n't  stop.  "It  is 
twenty-four  hours  since  I  spoke  his  name  to  a  soul,"  he 
says.  "  You  '11  get  me  talking !"  he  warns,  with  a  smile. 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        165 

"  Begin  with  the  woman,"  says  I ;  "  for  that  's  where 
the  trouble  begins." 

"  You  're  young/7  says  he,  all  grave  5  "  and  you  think 
you  can  carry  the  world  tied  up  in  a  phrase.  You  're 
as  young  as  I  was  five  years  ago.  And  maybe  you 
can  sing  a  song  or  crack  a  joke  or  give  the  general 
flavor  to  a  rout  as  well  as  I  could,  and  borrow  from 
men  and  steal  from  girls.  Can  you  see  what  kind  of 
a  boy  I  was  ?  One  day  I  got  a  call  from  the  richest 
man  in  the  town. 

"  l  What  business  have  you  pursuing  my  daughter  ? ? 
says  he.  '  She  's  promised  to  a  man  that  can  take  care 
of  her/  says  he ;  '  and  I  '11  not  give  her  up  to  a  variety 
show  like  you,  with  neither  profession  nor  money/ 

" 1 1  need  no  sympathy/  says  I,  i  for  I  've  settled 
down.  I  'm  going  to  be  a  portrait-painter,  and  your 
daughter  is  going  to  be  a  portrait-painter's  wife.' 

"  l  Listen  to  this/  says  he,  all  scarlet :  l  my  daughter 
may  be  your  wife ;  but  your  wife  will  never  be  my 
daughter ! ' 

"  That 's  how  Laura  and  I  come  down  from  flowers 
and  dances  to  live  in  the  half  of  a  New  York  flat- 
two  rooms  and  a  kerosene  stove,  and  lift  yourself  up 
stairs.  Maybe  you  can  find  a  moral  in  that  j  but  I 
can't.  We  were  living  on  our  pride,"  says  the  blind 
man  j  "  and  we  had  a  baby  boy,  and  I  painted  and 
painted  every  day  as  long  as  the  light  would  last, 
and  longer— until  I  'd  begun  to  learn  how  little  I 
knew,"  says  he ;  "  and  that  was  encouragement  enough, 
if  you  have  the  spark  of  the  artist  in  your  soul.  Was 
there  any  rhyme  or  reason  in  my  falling  sick,  with 
seven  kinds  of  ills,  from  drinking  bad  water  ?  It  was 


166  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

six  months  after  that  I  sat  up  in  bed  one  day  and  tried 
to  sing  with  a  broken  voice  to  little  Davy.  i  Let  's 
have  some  light/  says  I  to  the  doctor.  i  There 's  a  pic 
ture  of  purgatory  I  saw  in  my  dreams.  1 11  paint  it 
and  be  famous.' 

•• '  Blue  glasses  first/  says  the  doctor,  i  and  six 
months'  rest  for  those  eyes.  And  six  months'  rest  for 
your  wife,  here,  too  j  and  entire  freedom  from  care 
for  both  of  you.' 

"  Another  week  and  I  was  feeling  my  way  along  the 
street— happy,  though  the  world  was  still  so  dim  that 
it  sometimes  give  my  heart  a  jump.  But  I  'd  had  a 
couple  of  letters  from  ancient  friends  that  stopped  me 
from  ever  asking  a  loan  again  j  and  now  it  was  a  ques 
tion  of  food  and  rent  for  the  months  to  come,  and  I 
was  out  for  a  job  that  would  n't  hurt  my  eyes. 

"  l  What  can  you  do  ? '  says  the  first  man  I  asked. 

"  t  Why,  anything  a  gentleman  can  do/  says  I.  He 
looked  at  me  over  his  glasses. 

"  1 1  don't  believe  you  '11  find  anything  in  New  York 
a  gentleman  can  do/  says  he.  <  Good  morning.'  I 
did  n't  fetch  home  any  smiles  for  Laura  that  night. 
Three  days  later  I  brought  myself  to  send  my  card  to 
a  man  that  had  known  my  father ;  and  when  he  asked 
what  I  could  do,  I  said :  t  Why,  anything.'  He  went 
down  the  list  of  the  trades  he  employed ;  but  what  did 
I  know  of  any  trade  ? 

" 1 1  don't  see  anything  you  can  do/  says  he,  t  but 
sweeping  out  an  office.' 

"  <  Then  give  me  a  broom,'  says  I,  with  my  heart 
shriveled  down  to  a  marble. 

"  l  Clean  the  spare  typewriter/  says  he ;  '  it 's  a  reg- 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        167 

ular  part  of  the  job/  Then  I  sat  for  an  hour  and 
fumbled  over  the  dirty  types  with  a  brush.  l  Can't 
you  see  any  better  than  that  ? '  says  he,  stopping  in  a 
hurry.  'Those  types  are  not  clean/  says  he.  'Well, 
maybe  it  's  my  eyes/  says  I ;  i  but  they  '11  be  better 
soon/  He  gave  me  a  look  that  did  n't  raise  my  spirits. 
1 1  'd  like  to  hold  this  job,  sir/  says  I,  thinking  of  my 
baby  at  home  j  l  at  least,  till  I  can  get  a  better  one/ 
says  I. 

"  l  Come  back  when  you  can  see  to  do  the  work/  says 
he.  '  Good  morning/ 

"  I  did  n't  keep  on  hunting ;  I  went  home  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon.  I  found  my  wife  crying  over 
a  letter.  Her  father  was  dead,  and  she  'd  never  laid 
eyes  on  him  since  our  marriage,  nor  heard  from,  her 
telegram  to  him  when  her  baby  was  born. 

" l  Never  mind/  I  said ;  'I've  had  some  luck.  I  Ve 
got  a  job  to  bide  the  time  with — as  soon  as  my  eyes 
are  a  little  better/ 

"  l  What  is  it?'  she  said,  all  listless. 

"  I  did  n't  like  to  tell  her  the  truth.  '  It 's  with  the 
typewriter/  I  said. 

"  '  You  don't  know  typewriting/  said  Laura. 

"  '  I  '11  learn  it  fast  enough/  says  I,  l  when  my  eyes 
come  back/  i  How  much  will  you  get  ? '  says  she.  '  I 
don't  know/  says  I.  i  I  did  n't  think  to  ask/ 

"  '  No  !  You  did  n't  think  to  ask  !'  she  cries,  astound 
ing  me.  '  Was  that  the  way  my  father  made  a  fortune, 
—selling  his  labor  before  he  knew  what  he  'd  get  for  it  V 

"  I  felt  my  heart  cut  like  a  whip  j  there  was  that  in 
Laura's  voice  I  had  never  heard  before ;  but  I  would  n't 
show  the  hurt  she  'd  made.  'Never  mind,  dear/  I 


1G8  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

said.  i  When  I  get  my  eyes  again  I  '11  make  the  world 
pay  double  for  setting  us  back  like  this.  I  'm  getting 
stronger  every  day.' 

"  I  took  up  my  baby  and  loved  it  and  laughed  with 
it  till  my  heart  growed  warm  again,  though  Laura 
would  n't  laugh  at  its  tricks.  The  next  morning  I 
cut  a  page  out  of  the  newspaper — one  I  found,  for  we 
did  n't  waste  our  pennies.  I  pinned  it  on  the  wall 
and  measured  off  ten  paces,  and  took  memorandum 
of  how  I  could  read  the  big  letters  of  the  advertise 
ments,  so  as  to  have  a  gage  on  my  eyes.  That  day 
I  did  n't  search  for  any  better  job  to  take  the  place 
of  the  one  that  was  waiting  me ;  for  I  thought  I  'd 
keep  out  of  the  glare  of  the  sun  on  the  snow.  I  only 
bided  the  time  till  another  twenty-four  hours,  to  see 
if  I  could  read  at  eleven  paces  what  I  had  made  out 
at  ten.  But  I  could  n't  j  I  was  n't  so  sure  at  ten  paces 
as  I  'd  been  the  morning  before.  And  I  sat  all  day 
like  a  bird  in  its  cage,  without  a  word. 

ui  Are  you  giving  up  looking  for  a  position  ? '  said 
Laura,  then,  in  that  new  voice  of  hers. 

"  l  No,  dear/  I  said ;  1 1  'm  only  resting  my  eyes  from 
the  snow— so  I  can  take  that  chance  that 's  offered  me.' 

"  The  next  morning  I  stumbled  off  my  ten  paces  and 
tried  the  newspaper  again.  Then  I  knew  what  was 
coming  to  me.  I  was  going  blind. 

"  She  was  there  in  the  room— she  had  no  other  place 
to  go ;  and  so  I  could  n't  open  my  lips.  The  baby  was 
crying  because  she  'd  forgotten  its  food.  I  was  going 
blind  ;  and  what  was  I  going  to  do  ?  What  did  blind 
men  do  ?  I  said  to  myself.  Some  of  'em  begged ;  some 
of  'em  played  bad  music  in  the  streets  j  and  some  of 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        169 

'em  pitched  themselves  into  the  river,  I  guessed.  The 
heat  in  my  head  made  the  room  so  steamy  I  could  n't 
see  the  look  on  her  face.  I  rushed  to  the  window  and 
threw  it  open ;  for  the  air  seemed  gone  with  the  light. 
1  The  baby  !'  says  she.  l  Do  you  want  to  kill  him  with 
the  cold,  and  me,  too— and  get  rid  of  your  burden? 
Or  are  you  crazy  ? ' 

"'Not  yet/  says  I,  shutting  down  the  window. 
1  Not  yet/  says  I.  '  I  was  only  thinking.' 

"  '  Will  thinking  give  your  baby  the  food  he  needs, 
and  the  clothes  ? '  she  said. 

"  t  Maybe  it  will,  dear.     Have  patience,  dear,'  says  I. 

"  Then  I  went  out  in  the  snow  and  tried  to  plan 
what  I  was  going  to  do.  By  and  by  I  come  back :  I 
knew  my  only  course.  I  took  up  my  harp  and  put 
my  rusty  fingers  on  the  strings  and  tried  to  kill  the 
gloom  with  something  gay.  Neither  of  us  said  a 
word ;  for  she  thought  I  was  idling,  and  I  found  I  ;d 
lost  me  grip  of  the  thing,  for  I  'd  never  played  it 
except  for  a  joke.  I  must  learn  again,  right  away,  I 
said  to  myself :  I  must  practise  and  practise.  The 
baby  went  to  sleep.  All  the  afternoon  Laura  lay  in 
a  chair,  and  I  pulled  at  the  strings  with  ever  the  same, 
same  tune,  trying  to  perfect  myself.  By  and  by  she 
cried  out  like  one  in  pain.  t  Can't  you— can't  you  stop 
that  noise?'  she  said. 

"  i  Yes,  dear/  says  I.  1 1  was  only  trying  to  amuse 
myself.  I  'm  waiting  for  my  eyes  to  get  well.' 

"  The  next  day  and  the  next  I  tried  to  read  that- 
paper  on  the  wall ;  I  had  to  go  a  pace  nearer— my  eyes 
was  giving  away  fast.  But  I  could  n't  tell  Laura  yet 
I  went  off  to  the  public  hospital.  The  man  pawed  me 


170  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

over  and  said  it  all  depended  on  my  nerves;  said  I 
must  rest,  and  stay  in  a  dark  room— and  not  to  worry, 
he  said.  I  went  home  and  played  hard  on  the  harp. 
Laura  come  in  with  the  baby  and  found  me  there, 
always  working  at  my  little  finger. 

"  l  Are  you  always  going  to  amuse  yourself  on  that 
harp  ? '  she  said.  '  Nothing  but  play,  when  you  ought 
to  be  hunting  for  work !  Where  shall  we  find  our 
supper  to-morrow  ? '  she  said,  in  a  way  I  never  thought 
to  hear  from  her. 

11  'Laura/  says  I,  'God  knows  where  we  '11  get  it; 
for  I  'm  going  blind.  And  better  I  should  go  blind 
than  I  see  that  look  on  your  face  again/  I  sat  down 
and  covered  my  head  in  my  arms.  I  thought  she 
could  n't  stand  hearing  that  I  was  blind  •  I  thought 
in  a  minute  she  'd  come  and  lay  her  fingers  on  my 
brow.  I  waited,  and  the  minutes  went  past,  and  I 
could  n't  hear  her  stir.  By  and  by  some  fingers  did 
come  in  my  hair ;  but  they  were  n't  Laura's :  they  were 
little  Davy's  fingers ;  and  he  did  n't  say  a  word,  but 
gave  me  his  baby  love,  all  warm  and  fresh.  I  turned 
my  back  to  my  wife ;  she  sat  with  her  chin  in  her  hand. 
An  hour  went  by ;  I  kissed  my  child  and  took  the  little 
harp  and  started  for  the  door. 

" l  Good  heavens  ! '  s&ys  she,  all  hoarse,  'have  we  come 
down  to  that?  Are  you  going  on  the  street  to  play 
that  harp  for  money  ? '  I  did  n't  dare  to  answer  square 
to  the  scorn  and  fear  and  misery  in  her  voice.  I  could 
hear  her  breathing  across  the  room. 

"  1 1  think  I  know  where  I  can  give  some  lessons  on 
the  harp,  dear,'  says  I.  1 1  ?m  going  to  see.' 

"  Then  I  went  out  in  the  cold.     I  said  to  myself  it 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  171 

was  time  I  grew  a  beard,  so  that  no  one  would  know 
me.  And  I  studied  the  landmarks  between  my  door 
and  the  elevated,  against  the  time  when  I  'd  have  to 
sail  in  the  dark.  I  rode  to  the  jumping-off  place  in 
Brooklyn,  and  there  I  put  my  harp  down  in  the  snow 
in  front  of  a  saloon  and  played  my  tune.  A  man 
rolled  out  and  gave  me  a  quarter  and  wanted  another 
tune  j  but  I  did  n't  know  it.  He  wanted  the  tunes  of 
the  street.  I  moved  to  another  place,  and  played  my 
tune  three  times  again  j  and  a  woman  gave  me  a  nickel, 
and  a  child  offered  me  ten  cents,  but  I  could  n't  take 
that.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  got  back ;  and 

I  had  played  that  tune  till  it  made  me  sick  to  hear  it. 
When  I  had  taken  out  my  fare  there  was  thirty  cents 
left.     I  stumbled  into  the  room  in  the  dark.     In  a 
minute  I  laid  my  hand  on  Laura's  shoulder,  there  in 
the  chair,  where  I  had  left  her. 

"  'I  took  down  that  paper  from  the  wall/  she  said. 

I 1  found  a  notice  of  father's  will.     There  's  nothing 
for  us.     I  don't  understand ;  there  seems  to  be  nothing 
left  at  all.' 

" '  Maybe  he  took  his  money  with  him,'  says  I. 
1  But  does  n't  that  tie  us  closer  together  ?  You  've  lost 
your  fortune  and  I  've  lost  my  eyes.  And  I  thought 
you  'd  be  thinking  a  little  of  that  while  I  was  gone. 
To  me  it  's  a  bit  of  a  shock,  you  know.  And  a 
touch  and  a  word  would  save  me  from  going  mad, 
perhaps.' 

"  l  Oh,  we  '11  both  go  mad ;  there  's  nothing  to  save 
us,'  she  said.  1 1  told  you  so  before  we  were  married. 
You  should  have  passed  me  by,  and  I  should  have  lis 
tened  to  my  father  and  my  aunt.  Now  I  have  to  read 


172  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

such  news  as  this,  in  the  very  paper  you  pinned  on 
the  wall.' 

"  I  turned  away.  '  I  wish  I  could  read  it !'  was  all 
I  said.  I  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  weak  and  hun 
gry.  By  and  by  she  boiled  an  egg  and  made  me  eat 
it ;  but  there  was  no  more  ease  between  us.  She  let 
the  baby  cry  for  water  while  she  cleared  the  things. 
1  Davy/  says  I,  '  your  mother  says  you  should  never 
have  been  born.'  I  flung  myself  on  the  bed  beside  him. 
He  gave  a  sigh  and  put  his  arms  around  my  neck  and 
went  to  sleep— softer  and  sweeter,  my  God,  than  any 
thing  that  ever  trusted  in  man !  That  was  the  night 
that  Davy  and  I  got  to  know  each  other ;  that  was  the 
first  bit  of  light  that  heaven  let  me  have  in  all  those 
days.  I  tried  to  keep  awake  for  the  joy  of  it ;  but  by 
and  by  I  went  to  sleep,  and  we  did  n't  wake  till  day 
light. 

"  I  said  I  was  going  to  give  another  lesson  in  Brook 
lyn.  I  left  two  nickels  on  the  table  and  took  three  in 
my  pocket ;  and  that  was  my  capital  when  that  morning 
I  begun  to  learn  the  business  of  playing  music  in  the 
streets  to  meet  the  taste  of  the  people.  There  's  many 
a  trick  in  such  a  trade,  and  slowly  I  learned  them  ;  and 
in  a  while  I  was  making  food  and  rent.  But  what  I 
brought  home  would  n't  get  clothes,  nor  look  out  for 
accidents,  nor  tide  bad  weather.  That  's  why  we  had 
to  part  with  a  lot  of  our  things  and  still  went  poorer 
and  poorer.  But  Laura  seemed  to  settle  to  it  a  bit,  I 
thought.  I  think  she  was  glad  to  see  me  when  I  came 
home  at  night.  She  'd  ask  once  in  a  while  if  there  was 
no  danger  of  my  being  run  over  in  the  street,  or  some 
thing  about  the  people  I  gave  lessons  to.  And  I  made 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  173 

a  whole  world  of  my  own  invention,  so  as  to  keep  up 
the  lie  that  I  did  give  lessons  and  spent  my  time  in  the 
houses  of  people  of  our  own  kind.  My  joy  was  to  get 
home  and  find  little  Davy.  I  was  so  blind  now  that  I 
always  whistled  whenever  I  came  into  the  room,  for 
fear  I  'd  run  over  him.  And  by  and  by  he  learned  to 
call  back, '  Toot !'  to  me ;  and  that  was  the  first  thing 
we  would  do  when  I  came  home  tired— the  one  thing 
that  saved  the  wreck  of  my  heart  in  the  summer  and 
winter  that  came  and  went.  He  got  so  big  and  clever 
that  he  would  steal  up  and  hang  around  my  neck 
whenever  he  saw  me  looking  glum ;  and  then  I  would 
play  the  harp  to  him— real  music  I  would  try  to  play 
to  him  j  and  in  the  spring  he  began  to  pull  at  the  strings 
himself,  and  would  play  me  a  tune  on  one  string— a 
funny  little  tune  of  his  own  that  was  always  the  same. 
Then  I  would  put  chords  and  variations  to  it,  and 
Davy  would  laugh  with  delight.  Till  he  used  to  give 
me  more  tunes,  one  or  two  strings  in  them  •  and  these 
I  would  have  on  my  mind  all  day,  thinking  how  I 
would  set  them  perhaps  in  a  lullaby  and  play  little 
Davy  to  sleep.  Heavens  !  there  were  hours  when  I  was 
happy— for  I  could  n't  see  how  ragged  Laura  was,  nor 
how  thin  and  miserable ;  and  little  Davy— bad  and 
lusty  and  mischievous  he  was — he  was  the  anchor  for 
me.  I  said  he  was  going  to  be  a  genius  and  play  some 
day  for  kings  and  queens. 

"It  made  me  work  nearer  and  nearer  our  part  of  town, 
so  that  I  could  get  home  quicker  to  Davy.  My  beard 
had  changed  my  face  so  that  none  of  my  friends  would 
know  me.  And  I  knew  that  Laura  would  n't  be  apt 
to  bring  her  child  to  the  Bowery.  One  wet  day  in  the 


174  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

spring  I  was  playing  inside  a  Third  Avenue  saloon. 
It  was  a  paying  place.  They  won't  let  you  play  in  every 
saloon— and  they  would  n't  always  let  me  there.  One 
thing  and  the  next  had  brought  me  nearer  to  losing 
my  grip  that  week  than  for  many  a  month ;  and  I  'd 
gone  pretty  light  on  my  food  so  as  to  get  some  things 
for  Davy.  I  was  playing  my  tunes  and  trying  to  live 
down  to  the  talk  of  the  loafers  at  the  bar.  The  door 
was  open.  One  of  the  fellows  said  to  me :  '  Who  's 
your  lady  friend?'  'My  lady  friend?'  says  I.  'I 
don't  have  such/  Then  there  was  a  hush  in  the  place ; 
and  when  there  's  a  hush  I  always  know  there  's  some 
thing  going  to  happen  to  me.  A  woman  came  and 
laid  her  hand  on  my  shoulder.  i  Come  home/  says 
Laura ;  <  for  Davy's  sake,  come  home  !'  There  was  an 
awful  shudder  in  her  voice ;  but  she  did  n't  say  what 
was  the  matter.  I  hurried  out  after  her,  as  fast  as  I 
could  feel  my  way  with  my  stick.  Was  Davy  sick? 
Had  he  been  hurt— had  she  let  him  get  hurt  ?  I  said  to 
myself.  I  'm  thinking  I  knocked  a  few  other  people's 
children  over  on  the  way  home ;  for  my  ears  was  deaf 
with  the  rush  of  my  blood. 

" '  How  long  since  it 's  come  to  this  ? '  she  said, 
when  I  opened  the  door. 

"  '  Davy !  What 's  the  matter  ? '  I  said.  He  came 
and  gave  me  a  thump  in  the  nose  and  wriggled  in  my 
hands  as  sound  as  an  eel.  i  He  's  all  right/  I  said. 

" l  You;  said  my  wife.  l  You  were  playing  like  a 
beggar  in  that  horrible  saloon.  People  said  you  were 
low/  she  said,  with  her  voice  as  hard  as  if  she  was 
dressed  in  furs  and  I  a  criminal.  '  People  said  you 
would  sink  rather  than  rise/  she  said.  *  You  have  the 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        175 

vulgar  streak  they  said  you  had,  or  you  'd  sooner 
starve !' 

"  l  Then  you  've  brought  me  home  to  tell  me  I  must 
starve/  said  I.  <I  've  been  doing  this  for  months. 
What  else  can  I  do  ? ' 

"She  did  n't  answer— she  could  n't  answer;  she 
only  moaned.  'I  can't  stand  it!'  she  cried,  after  a 
while. 

"  Then  I  lost  my  balance.  '  You  Ve  got  to  stand  it, 
unless  you  want  me  to  jump  in  the  bay/  I  said. 
'  Would  n't  I  do  it  quick  enough  if  it  was  n't  for  Davy  ! 
Do  you  think  it  's  your  love  and  devotion  that  keep 
my  heart  to  the  grindstone  ?  You  're  a  coward/  I  said. 
'  You  may  have  come  of  better  blood  than  mine,  but 
what  have  you  got  to  show  for  it  ?  Why,  your  father 
was  rich  in  money ;  but  his  heart  was  poorer  than  a 
pauper's,  and  so  is  yours !'  That 's  the  kind  of  talk 
we  'd  come  to. 

"  She  began  to  cry  ;  and  little  Davy  began  to  cry, 
too;  and  I— I  could  n't  cry,  and  I  had  ten  times  the 
worst  of  it  for  being  the  man.  By  and  by  she  spoke 
up  in  a  meeker  voice.  '  Make  what  you  like  of  it/  she 
said.  'We  've  come  to  this,  and  I  will  follow  you 
where  you  say.  We  must  step  farther  down ;  we 
must  go  where  the  rent  is  cheaper.  Lead  the  way 
and  tell  me  what  to  do.' 

"  '  Let  's  not  be  cross/  I  said.  '  There  's  one  thing 
you  could  do.  It  would  make  twice  as  much  money. 
No  one  would  know  you.  It  would  keep  us  together 
more.' 

"'  What  is  it?  'she  said. 

" l  You  've  a  sweet  little  voice/  says  I.     '  The  people 


176  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

here  would  look  out  for  the  baby  in  the  evening.  You 
could  come  along  with  me  and  sing  in  the  evening 
while  I  played.' 

"  <  Oh !'  she  burst.  <  Would  any  other  man  but  you 
have  proposed  such  a  thing?  You  could  n't— you 
could  n't  if  you  'd  been  made  right !' 

"  '  It  's  not  my  proposal/  I  said.  <  It 's  God's  pro 
posal.  It 's  the  way  the  groove  leads— the  groove  we 
can't  climb  out  of,  pride  or  anything.  Put  on  a  thick 
veil  to  cover  your  eyes  and  nose  j  be  as  blind  as  I,  if 
you  like.  But  they  '11  listen  to  that  voice  of  yours ; 
they  '11  give  you  money.' 

"  '  You  must  let  me  try  to  get  something  else  to  do 
first/  she  said,  driven  into  a  corner.  'It  means  leav 
ing  Davy  if  I  go  out  to  slave  somewhere  j  and  I  do 
love  Davy :  but  I  '11  go  !' 

"  '  But  what  can  you  do ?'  I  said. 

"  l  In  a  shop,  somewhere/  says  Laura.  *  I  've  often 
thought  of  it.  In  the  kind  of  a  shop  where  I  '11  never 
see  any  one  I  used  to  know.' 

"  Then  Davy  and  I  had  a  holiday.  The  little  rascal 
could  cut  more  monkey-shines  to  make  a  blind  man 
laugh  than  ever  a  child  before  him.  When  Laura 
pushed  open  the  door  that  evening  Davy  and  I  were 
having  the  devil's  own  racket  with  a  dust-pan  and  a 
bandbox.  '  You  were  meant  for  a  pauper/  she  said, 
throwing  herself  in  the  armchair.  '  You  'd  sing  on 
the  way  to  the  poorhouse !'  I  did  n't  speak— not  till 
I  'd  got  her  to  take  some  tea.  <  So  you  did  n't  find 
anything?'  I  said,  when  Davy  was  in  bed.  'No/  she 
said ;  1 1  can't  make  as  much  as  you  bring  home.  Aud 
we  could  n't  both  leave  Davy  all  day.' 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        177 

" '  Not  in  this  world/  said  I.  l  And  so  we  '11  try  the 
night-work.' 

" ' And  I  won't  be  insulted  as  I  was  to-day,'  said 
Laura,  after  a  while.  l  For  you  '11  be  always  with  me.' 

"  It  had  given  her  a  betterment,  I  thought,  to  go 
and  try  for  herself.  Somehow  I  felt  we  both  were 
happier.  She  made  no  joke  of  coming  on  the  street 
with  me  that  night  j  but  she  put  on  her  veil  and  took 
my  arm  without  a  sigh.  We  kissed  little  Davy,  asleep, 
and  then  we  took  the  long  walk  down  Fourteenth 
Street,  near  to  Second  Avenue.  She  gripped  my  arm 
tighter  and  tighter,  but  she  walked  on.  It  was  a  warm 
Saturday  night  and  everybody  lounging  here  and 
there.  There  was  a  little  vacant  space  between  two 
sets  of  steps  where  I  unlimbered ;  and  a  crowd  began 
to  collect  the  minute  we  stopped.  '  We  '11  do  well/ 
says  I  to  her  •  i  and  to-morrow  you  '11  get  some  of  the 
things  you  need.'  She  shivered  at  the  business  way 
I  went  at  it.  I  heard  the  shuffle  of  feet  close  in 
around  us  and  felt  her  hand  on  my  shoulder.  '  Sing !' 
I  said. 

"  She  pulled  her  veil  above  her  lips  and  started  the 
song  we  'd  agreed  on— no  common  street  song,  for  she 
would  n't  have  that,  but  a  little  ballad  of  long  ago, 
that  she  used  to  sing  as  a  girl.  It  was  hard,  mighty 
hard,  the  way  she  began :  off  the  key ;  and  the  crowd 
laughed  to  break  your  heart.  l  It  was  my  mistake/ 
says  I,  in  a  hurry.  '  Excuse  me,  miss/  says  I ;  for, 
Heaven  forgive  me,  I  knew  they  'd  take  better  to  a 
miss  than  to  a  missus.  i  Excuse  me,  miss,'  says  I, l  but 
there  's  such  a  jolly  crew  aboard  the  curb  to-night  that 
I  fell  off  my  key.  Will  you  begin  again  with  that 

12 


178  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

French  song,  miss  ? '  says  I.  I  said  it  to  get  the  crowd 
in  a  good  humor  5  for  I  'd  long  learned  how  to  handle 
them.  But  you  711  understand,  perhaps,  how  it  hurt 
her  to  hear  me  talk  so.  It  's  bad  enough  for  a  man 
like  me  to  be  driven  into  the  streets  with  a  harp ;  but 
it 's  ten  times  as  bad  to  be  driven  low  enough  to  suc 
ceed  there.  And  there  was  one  man  in  the  crowd  that 
worried  me  by  the  way  he  talked.  '  There,  dear/  says 
he ;  l  you  can't  sing  as  pretty  as  you  look ;  but  go  on, 
go  on  P  He  moved  around  to  get  nearer  her.  l  Go 
on,  Laura/  I  said,  vamping  for  her  to  begin. 

"  Then  she  started  once  more.  7T  was  hard  enough 
to  hear  how  her  voice  had  gone  dry  from  the  old  days, 
but  she  began  off  the  key  again ;  and  the  crowd  sent 
up  a  howl  that  shivered  down  her  arm  and  through 
my  shoulder.  l  Shut  up,  ye  cattle  P  says  that  drunken 
voice,  pushing  its  way  through  the  crowd.  c  She  's 
my  Annie/  says  he ;  l  ain't  ye,  dear P  His  voice  seemed 
close  in  my  ear,  and  I  rose  from  my  camp-stool.  Laura 
give  a  cry.  i  He  7s  touching  me/  she  said.  '  Leave 
me  alone P  There  was  a  lot  of  confusion  and  voices— 
I  don't  know  what ;  but  I  reached  for  Laura,  and  my 
hand  came  down  on  an  arm  stretched  out  before  her 
face.  Aye,  but  there  was  forty  months  of  cruel  suffer 
ing  and  self -forbearance  let  loose  from  me  while  I 
hammered  that  poor  devil's  head  on  the  curb.  When 
they  pulled  us  apart  there  was  a  terrible  crowd.  I 
was  being  bundled  into  a  patrol-wagon,  and  the  man 
I  had  hurt  was  lifted  in  beside  me,  insensible.  I  kept 
calling  for  Laura,  but  I  got  no  answer.  I  'd  have  felt 
good  that  minute  if  I  could  have  only  known  where 
she  had  gone— for  I  thought  I  'd  given  my  evil  fate  a 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        179 

bit  of  a  punishing.  But  the  moment  we  drove  off  I 
heard  that  same  brute  voice  again— not  from  the  man 
that  lay  beside  me,  but  from  the  middle  of  the  crowd 
around  the  wheels.  t  He  was  after  me/  says  the  voice, 
with  a  chuckle,  t  and  he  struck  the  wrong  man !' 

"  They  held  on  to  me  that  night  and  over  Sunday, 
along  with  thieves  and  drunks.  I  could  have  stood 
it  if  I  'd  only  heard  from  Laura.  I  gave  my  last 
quarter  to  a  messenger-boy  j  but  he  came  back  and 
said  she  was  n't  there  to  take  my  note.  He  'd  never 
gone  near  the  place,  I  made  up  my  mind.  I  could  n't 
but  think  about  Davy— whether  something  had  hap 
pened  to  Laura  and  she  had  n't  got  home— little  Davy 
waking  in  the  night  and  finding  himself  alone  !  They 
put  me  through  the  machine  on  Monday  morning.  I 
had  thought  sure  to  see  Laura  then ;  but  she  did  n't 
come.  I  told  the  judge  my  story  straight,  never  dar 
ing  to  conceal  that  she  was  my  wife,  singing  in  the 
streets  for  the  first  time.  The  man  I  had  hurt  was 
there,  and  his  head  too  sore  to  forgive  me ;  but  the 
man  that  had  started  it  all  was  no  more  there  than 
Laura.  The  judge  was  on  my  side.  He  fined  me  a 
dollar  and  costs ;  and  some  one  in  the  crowd  paid  the 
money— I  don't  know  who  j  I  only  suspect.  But  it 
had  made  a  rustle  with  the  newspaper  reporters.  I 
could  hear  my  name  and  Laura's  running  off  their 
pencils.  One  of  them  followed  me  out  of  court,  but 
I  would  n't  answer  him.  I  knew  he  was  following  me 
home;  but  I  could  n't  wait  to  see  Davy.  Davy  was 
just  the  one  comfort  I  had  left :  for  Laura  would  never 
sing  in  the  streets  again,  I  was  sure;  and  what  else 
we  could  do  I  did  n't  know. 


180  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  I  burst  in  the  door  and  gave  my  whistle ;  but  I 
did  n't  hear  any  answer.  i  Are  you  there  ? ' 1  said.  I 
got  the  echo  of  my  voice.  Of  course,  I  said  to  myself, 
she  's  taken  him  out  for  an  airing ;  she  did  n't  want  to 
take  him  into  court  to  see  his  father  in  the  dock ;  and 
she  could  n't  leave  him  here.  I  sat  long  and  long, 
waiting  for  the  sound  of  Davy's  voice  down-stairs. 
Then  I  said  to  myself  I  would  open  the  trunk  where 
his  playthings  belonged— many  the  price  of  a  supper 
that  I  never  ate  had  gone  into  those  toys.  I  shuffled 
along  the  floor  with  a  happy  thought  to  kill  the  time. 
I  would  make  him  a  church  with  a  steeple  out  of  his 
blocks.  When  I  got  to  the  window  my  foot  struck 
the  wall  and  not  the  trunk.  Laura  had  moved  the 
trunk,  I  said  to  myself.  And  where?  I  kicked  my 
way  around  the  narrow  room.  There  was  my  trunk ; 
but  hers,  with  Davy's  things— I  raked  the  floor  beneath 
the  bed,  I  covered  every  foot  of  space,  and  could  n't 
find  it.  Surely,  Laura  must  have  pawned  it.  But 
what  had  she  done  with  Davy's  blocks  ?  I  felt  in  my 
drawer.  It  was  full  of  my  things.  Then  I  felt  in  his 
drawer.  It  was  empty  of  everything;  and  so  was 
his  mother's.  l  Empty  !'  I  said  aloud. 

"  '  Empty ! '  said  the  room. 

"  I  called  up  the  man  from  down- stairs.  *  Did  my 
wife  leave  a  note  for  me  ? '  I  said,  quite  matter-of-fact. 

"  l  She  sent  her  trunk  away— that 's  all  I  know/  he 
said.  l  Then  she  and  the  boy  drove  off  in  a  carriage 
with  your  friend  that  wears  the  silk  hat,' 

«  <  My  friend  that  wears  the  silk  hat !'  I  said. 

"  i  You  mean  to  say  you  don't  know  him  ? '  says  the 
man.  I  felt  his  eye  on  me,  and  I  knew  what  the  fool 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  181 

was  thinking.  I  had  to  lie,  for  I  don't  know  now  who 
it  was ;  I  can  only  guess. 

"'It  's  her  brother/  I  said,  though  a  brother  she 
never  had.  i  1 'm  smiling  at  his  wearing  a  silk  hat- 
that  's  all.'  Then  I  shut  the  door  on  him. 

"  I  threw  up  the  windows  to  let  in  the  air.  The 
world  was  going  on  just  the  same  outside.  Laura  had 
gone.  She  'd  never  come  back.  And  she  had  taken 
my  Davy— my  flesh  and  blood  and  soul.  I  sat  alone 
in  that  room  that  had  rung  so  often  to  little  Davy's 
laugh.  How  could  the  walls  be  so  dead  ?  I  asked  my 
self.  I  was  all  alone.  And  I  had  found  out  what  it 
was  to  be  blind." 

THE  wind  had  tired  out  and  left  the  sea  like  a  floor. 
Over  your  head  the  sky  was  a  dull  blue-black,  with 
never  a  star  written  there ;  and  away  on  the  dividing- 
line  three  streaks  of  orange  cut  the  clouds  to  tell 
where  the  sun  had  gone.  The  blind  man  sat  all  still 
and  stone  'twixt  me  and  the  light  of  the  west,  like  the 
world  had  passed  beyond  him  and  left  him  dead. 
" Women— women!"  I  says  to  meself,  all  young. 
Then  I  throwed  a  pebble  in  the  water.  "  What  do  ye 
think  to  do  now  ? "  says  I. 

"  What  does  He  think  to  do  ? "  says  the  blind  man, 
pointing  up.  "  There  must  be  an  answer  why  they 
took  away  my  eyes  and  took  away  my  Davy.  Or  else 
't  would  be  too  foolish,  you  know.  I  'm  waiting  till 
my  answer  comes." 

In  a  minute  he  heard  me  aboard  the  sloop,  bailing 
hard  with  me  cap. 

"My  name  was  Horace   Maiden,"  says  he,   "and 


182  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

this  was  the  second  day  of  May.  And  I  wish  you  a 
happy  life." 

"  I  'm  going  to  bring  ye  ashore,"  says  I,  "  if  these 
planks  will  hold  together." 

In  the  instant  he  sprung  to  his  feet  and  stood  on 
the  highest  rock,  with  a  pair  of  heavy  stones  in  his 
hands. 

"Tell  'em  I  was  the  bigger  man,"  he  says;  "tell 
7em  I  said  my  Maker  had  turned  my  face  to  the 
dark— that  you  had  to  leave  me  here  for  fear  of  my 
killing  you.  For  I  '11  never  leave  this  spot  but  by  a 
miracle." 

I  come  and  stood  beyond  his  reach.  "  There 's  some 
one  else  that  has  a  say  in  this,"  says  I.  "  It  ain't  I, 
and  it  ain't  your  wife,  and  it  ain't  you.  But  the  voice 
of  little  Davy  is  truer  than  yours  or  mine.  And  he  's 
making  me  say  it  for  him— because  he  's  too  little  to 
speak  for  himself —that  he  wants  ye  to  come  back  and 
stick  to  him,  and  teach  him  to  stick  to  you." 

"You  speak  with  the  voice  of  the  divil,"  says  the 
man,  all  white.  "  You  're  trying  to  use  my  weakness ; 
but  you  can't,  for  1 11  never  budge.  I  was  the  dead 
weight  that  held  them  down  to  starving.  She  was 
right:  her  relations  will  make  him  rich.  And  I  'm 
done  and  gone  and  out  of  the  way.  Push  off  and  leave 
me  be !"  he  says,  all  feard  of  himself. 

"  He 's  going  to  grow  up  a  coward,"  says  I.  "  Little 
Davy,  with  his  twinkling  legs— and  the  dust-pan  and 
the  bandbox.  He  's  saying  <  Toot !'  now,  and  listen 
ing  for  his  daddy's  whistle  on  the  stairs.  And 
would  n't  he  fight  me  if  he  was  here  and  I  laid  a 
hand  on  ye !  But  he  's  going  to  grow  up  a  coward," 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS        183 

says  I,  "because  he  '11  never  learn  to  stick  by  the  luck 
that  goes  in  his  blood." 

The  stones  was  loosening  in  his  hands.  "  Oh,  my 
little  Davy  boy !"  he  speaks  up  out  of  his  heart. 

"  Davy—  waiting  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,"  says  I. 
"  And  they  won't  tell  him  why— he'll  never  know  why." 

The  stones  fell  out  of  his  hands  and  he  covered  his 
face.  "You  've  robbed  him,"  he  says;  "you  've 
robbed  him  of  all  they  'd  have  done  for  him,  because 
I  'm  so  weak  I  can't  withstand." 

So  I  got  him  into  the  sloop.  "  Bail,"  says  I,  giving 
him  his  hat.  We  pointed  away  for  nearer  land  than 
where  we  started  from ;  and,  though  the  breeze  was 
all  I  wanted  for  my  shivery  pole,  we  leaked  faster  than 
we  sailed.  I  had  me  mind  on  where  Davy's  mother 
might  have  gone,  and  how  to  hunt  her  up.  But  for 
the  blind  man  the  time  was  long,  and  he  got  a-think- 
ing  again,  and  I  knowed  his  hat  hung  loose  in  his 
hand. 

"  Bail !"  says  I,  in  the  dark,  with  the  water  in  me 
boots. 

"  I  've  been  bailing,"  he  says,  "  nothing  but  bailing, 
all  these  months.  But  it  was  n't  any  good,  and  it 
won't  be  any  good." 

"Bail!"  says  I. ' 

He  thought  we  would  sink  if  he  stopped.  He 
throwed  his  hat  away  on  the  water  and  laid  his  head 
on  the  rail.  Slow  and  steady  we  put  the  reef  behind 
us.  He  did  n't  hear  me  drop  astern  and  trail  along  in 
the  wake.  By  and  by  the  beacon-lights  growed  big 
and  near.  And  all  the  while  I  'd  been  thinking  of 
little  Davy. 


184  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

The  man  was  easy  prey  to  the  food  and  drink  I  gave 
him  ashore.  "  Curse  your  good  intentions  !"  he  says, 
half  tipsy  in  his  bed.  Then  he  fell  asleep. 

At  midnight  I  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  Washington 
Square.  I  had  taken  the  express  to  town,  and  found 
the  newspaper  with  the  tale  of  the  blind  man's  shindy, 
and  found  his  lodgings  and  the  man  that  had  taken 
her  trunk ;  and  I  was  camped  in  front  of  the  house 
where  the  trunk  had  been  moved  to.  And  what  with 
the  whisky  that  me  conscience  had  allowed  aboard 
me  to  balance  the  water  in  me  boots,  and  the  general 
satisfaction  I  had  to  be  thinking  that  little  Davy  was 
where  I  could  find  him  in  the  morning,  I  fell  asleep, 
with  me  last  ten-dollar  bill  stowed  away  in  me  cap. 
Before  morning  I  felt  some  thief  going  through  me 
pockets  j  but  I  would  n't  swap  me  snooze  for  the  plea 
sure  of  spoiling  his  fun.  I  waked  with  the  sun  in  me 
eyes.  There  was  a  strange  feeling  in  me  heart,  like 
the  bruise  of  a  hurt.  Was  it  hunger  ?  I  said  to  meself . 
I  held  up  one  of  them  night-owl  restaurant- wagons 
and  made  a  breakfast.  Then  I  killed  time  with  me 
pipe  and  the  policeman  on  the  beat. 

When  I  asked  for  Mrs.  Maiden  they  let  me  into  a 
room  that  smelt  of  violets  and  had  a  polished  floor 
and  high-priced  gimcracks  on  the  tables.  A  man  in 
a  sandy  mustache  come  down  the  stairs,  and  a  young 
ish  woman  with  faded  clothes  and  faded  eyes. 

"Is  this  a  newspaper  reporter?"  says  she  to  the 
sandy  hair. 

"I  come  to  get  little  Davy  and  take  him  to  his 
father,"  I  answered  for  meself. 

11  You  know  that  this  house  belongs  to  Mr.  Delaroy's 


HELP  FKOM  THE  HOPELESS  185 

sister,  then?"  says  she,  meaning  the  man  with  the 
sandy  mustache.  "  And  that  I  'm  staying  here  with 
her?" 

I  would  n't  let  her  have  the  satisfaction  I  knowed 
was  due  her,  for  the  two  of  'em  give  me  too  much  of 
a  chill ;  and  I  only  says : 

"  I  'd  like  to  take  little  Davy  on  the  nine-o'clock 
train." 

"  What  's  the  use  ? "  says  Delaroy.  "  Mr.  Maiden 
surely  knows  the  situation.  You  see,"  says  he,  "  I  'm 
tile  executor  of  the  will." 

"  Of  the  will  of  God  ? "  says  I.  "  When  it  comes  to 
that,"  says  I  to  her,  "  I  'm  a  bit  of  a  lawyer  ineself . 
Ye  can't  tear  that  boy  away  from  his  father— not 
unless  ye  want  to  be  singing  out  of  tune  with  your 
husband  again,  and  that  in  the  courts,  with  your 
maiden  name  in  the  papers." 

She  went  to  the  window  and  put  her  head  beyond 
the  curtains.  Delaroy  looked  from  me  to  her  and 
give  a  sigh.  The  only  sound  that  was  made  was  a 
pair  of  small  shoes  on  the  stairs— one  foot,  one  foot, 
hurrying  down.  I  saw  a  little  smile  between  the 
balusters,  all  happy  and  full  of  hope.  "Daddy?" 
says  little  Davy.  No  one  spoke,  but  I  put  out  me 
hand.  He  pattered  down  the  rest  of  the  stairs. 
"Daddy!"  he  says,  running  into  the  room  and  look 
ing  all  around.  Delaroy  and  his  mother  was  looking 
away  from  him.  He  come  and  looked  up  at  me  face, 
his  eyes  all  frowning.  "  Where  is  my  daddy?"  he 
says  to  me.  I  rubbed  me  hand  over  me  hair  and 
aimed  a  sickly  smile  at  the  other  two.  But  they 
would  n't  see  it.  Then  I  felt  the  profanity  rising  in 


186  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

me  throat,  but  I  swallowed  it ;  and  I  says,  all  hard 
and  soft  together  : 

"  I  come  to  take  ye  to  see  your  daddy,  little  man. 
And  you  're  going  right  away." 

His  mother  turned  to  me  as  if  to  speak ;  but  she 
did  n't.  She  come  up  ag'in'  little  Davy's  shout  of  joy. 
Then  I  caught  her  looking  hard  at  the  face  of  me— to 
see  what  I  thought  of  her. 

"  You  '11  go,"  says  she  to  Delaroy,  "and  bring  him 
back  to-night  f " 

I  did  n't  say  anything  to  that.  I  took  little  Davy's 
hand,  and  Delaroy  put  on  his  silk  hat,  and  we  all 
went  down  the  steps. 

"  Why  did  my  daddy  go  away?"  says  Davy,  in  the 
train,  with  his  eyes  all  wide  and  serious. 

"Why,  there  was  a  poor  sailorman,"  says  I,  "that 
was  left  all  alone  on  a  rock  in  the  sea.  And  the  poor 
sailorman  did  n't  know  what  to  do.  And,  sure,  I 
don't  know  what  he  would  have  done;  but  your 
daddy  went  out  in  a  boat  and  brought  him  back  all 
safe  and  sound,"  says  I. 

He  set  a  long  time  with  his  fingers  round  me  thumb, 
thinking  hard. 

"But  why  did  n't  my  daddy  say  good-by  to  me?" 
says  he. 

"  He  '11  say  hello  quick  enough,"  says  I,  pointing  up 
to  the  window  where  I  'd  left  the  blind  man  the  night 
before.  Davy's  legs  begun  to  kick  while  I  carried 
him  out  of  the  car  j  and  when  I  put  him  down  he  run 
off  like  a  wind-up  toy,  shouting :  "  Daddy  !  Daddy  !" 
He  made  for  the  stairs,  and  stamped  up,  shouting : 
"  Daddy !  Daddy,  I  come  in  the  choo-choo  car !"  till 


HELP  FROM  THE  HOPELESS  187 

the  whole  house  was  raised ;  and  "  Daddy !  Daddy !" 
I  heard,  till  a  door  burst  open  and  a  voice  all  choked 
says :  "  Davy,  boy !"  in  a  way  that  was  worth  your 
wedding-ring  to  hear. 

"Man,"  says  his  father,  putting  out  his  hand  to 
what  he  thought  was  me,  "  I  have  n't  the  words  to 
tell  you  what  I—" 

"  I  'm  Delaroy,"  says  the  lawyer,  taking  the  hand. 

The  blind  man  drew  himself  ag'in'  the  wall,  with 
his  child  on  his  arm. 

"  You  were  the  man  that  could  have  taken  better 
care  of  her  than  I  've  been  able  to,"  says  he.  "  How 
do  you  and  I  stand  about  her  now  ? " 

"  She  ought  to  have  told  you  she  was  writing  to 
me,"  says  Delaroy.  "It  7s  this:  when  you  were  sick 
your  doctor  was  a  life-insurance  examiner.  You  got 
well,  and  then  he  made  a  report  to  his  company,  at 
your  father-in-law's  request,"  says  he,  like  reading  a 
brief.  "And  on  that  report  the  company  accepted  a 
paid-up  risk  on  your  life.  The  premium  was  paid  by 
your  father-in-law  just  before  he  died ;  and  you  can 
see  that  the  policy  is  pretty  large,  for  the  premium 
took  up  about  the  whole  of  his  fortune.  -  So  much  for 
Davy  and  his  mother  if  you  should  die,"  says  the 
lawyer,  looking  at  the  big  shoulders  of  the  man. 
"  Now  your  father-in-law  was  an  officer  of  the  insur 
ance  company  j  and  there  exists  a  verbal  agreement 
between  him  and  them,  outside  of  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  courts,  I  think,"  says  he,  "by  which,  in  case  you 
desert  your  wife,  or  allow  her  other  grounds  for  a 
decree  of  separation,  why,  then  the  company,  being 
honorable  men,  will  pay  back  the  entire  premium  to 


188  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

your  wife,  in  exchange  for  the  policy,  which  is  in  my 
possession. 

"  So  there  are  two  courses  open  to  you,"  says  he, 
summing  up.  "  One  is  to  act  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  court  will  allow  the  decree  and  thus  make  your 
son  a  rich  woman's  son  and  give  him  a  splendid 
chance  in  the  world.  The  other  is  for  you  to  be  blind  " 
—here  he  stops  and  coughs— "  I  mean,  to  be  oblivi 
ous—to  your  son's  interests  j  to  insist  on  Mrs.  Maiden's 
trying  to  escape  starvation  by  singing  songs  in  the 
streets  to  please  the  rowdies  in  the  Bowery  j  and  to 
keep  on  till  you  all  three  land  up  in  the  poorhouse  or 
the  hospital,  according  to  chance." 

The  blind  man  stood  ag'in'  the  wall,  all  pale,  He 
cleared  his  throat,  and  he  says,  in  a  pretty  fair  voice : 
"  Never  mind  the  money.  Who  gets  Davy  ?  Who  is 
Davy  going  to  grow  up  with  ? " 

"  The  courts  would  n't  give  him  to  you,"  says  the 
lawyer.  "  Neither  wmild  his  mother.  And  you— you 
don't  mean  to  say  you  would  have  him  spend  his  life 
in  the  gutter,  in  the  places  where  you  go  !  He  '11  be 
educated  and  go  to  college  and  be  a  gentleman.  And 
you — of  course  you  '11  not  be  forgotten." 

The  boy  hung  close  to  his  father's  neck,  looking 
from  one  to  another  of  us,  and  looking  frightened  at 
his  father's  face.  I  ached  with  the  grinding  of  me 
teeth. 

"  I  want  air  here,"  says  the  blind  man,  putting  out 
his  hand. 

Davy  was  ready  to  cry.  "Daddy!7?  he  whispers, 
pulling  at  his  father's  head. 

The  blind  man  begun  to  stroke  the  little  One's, hair 


HELP  FKOM  THE   HOPELESS  189 

as  soft  as  if  the  child  was  dead.  "  I  have  n't  any 
friends/7  says  the  man,  half  to  himself.  "  I  have  n't 
anything  but  that  harp.  There  's  going  to  be  snow 
and  cold  and  dirty  streets  and  rowdy  talk,"  he  says  to 
the  child,  drawing  a  terrible  breath.  "  And  sure,"  he 
says,  laying  his  cheek  ag'in'  little  Davy,  "  I  don't  know 
—I  don't  know  whether  I—"  His  voice  stuck. 

The  boy  was  kissing  and  kissing  his  father's  cheek, 
all  hot  with  fear.  "  Daddy— I  love  you !"  he  says,  all 
wild. 

I  got  me  jaws  apart. 

"  By  the  kiss  of  the  Virgin,"  says  I,  "  he  '11  never 
lack  for  a  place  while  I  'm  an  able-bodied  man.  Don't 
ye  see  ye  can't  go  wrong  if  ye  steer  by  what  your 
Maker  planted  in  your  heart  ?  Stick  to  him— stick  to 
him,  man  !"  says  I,  shaking  his  shoulder.  "  He  '11  grow 
up  a  man  for  it." 

Delaroy  give  me  a  look,  but  he  did  n't  speak.  We 
watched  the  two  ag'in'  the  wall.  We  saw  the  blind 
man  straighten  up  like  the  storm  was  past.  He  give 
a  soft  kiss  to  his  baby.  He  stowed  the  child  on  his 
other  shoulder.  Then  says  he  : 

"  You  're  right.  If  it  had  n't  all  come  together,  I 
think  I  'd  have  said  so  sooner.  Davy  stays  with  me : 
not  for  my  sake,  but  for  his  own." 

WE  saw  Delaroy's  silk  hat  climb  into  the  train. 
Davy  sat  on  his  father's  shoulder  like  a  bird  on  a 
bough.  I  lit  me  pipe. 

"  Me  friend,"  says  I,  "  I  can  sit  here  and  hear  that 
baby  singing  like  a  robin.  And  yet  I  can  grudge  the 
rib  that  was  stole  from  Adam.  Let  other  fools  go 


190  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

hunting :  I  '11  live  me  life  without  my  rib  j  and 
damn — 7; 

He  come  and  put  his  hand  on  my  head.  He  was 
smiling  ;  and  now  he  was  handsome. 

"My  boy/7  says  he,  all  soft,  "if  you  can't  forgive 
her,  then  you  never  loved  her." 

That  was  twenty  years  ago,  by  the  gray  hairs  I  saw 
in  the  glass  this  morning  !  Me  and  Clarence  is  going 
to  the  opera  to-night;  and  the  blind  man  will  be 
there  betwixt  us,  choking  a  pleasant  sob.  And  me 
and  Clarence  will  raise  the  roof  with  a  pair  of  hands 
like  clubs.  For  little  Davy  will  come  out,  with  his 
forty-two  inch  chest,  and  sing  your  soul  to  Paradise. 

And  I  did  forgive  Mary  Travers  long  ago. 


CLARENCE   AT  THE   BALL 


CLARENCE   AT  THE  BALL 

T  was  the  ball  of  the  Reverend  Order 
of  Wise  Men,  in  Filbert  Street.  A 
chance  acquaintance  had  sold  me 
the  tickets,  saying  he  could  n't  pay 
his  dues  to  the  order  and  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  present,  for  fear  of 
violence.  So  meself  went  disguised  as  the  legs  of 
Hamlet  and  the  body  of  Robinson  Crusoe  j  and  little 
Clarence  O'Shay  went  clad  as  a  bird  of  paradise,  with 
that  many  kaleidoscope  feathers  sewed  on  to  him  that 
he  looked  like  an  explosion  in  a  paint-shop.  But  no 
sooner  we  come  to  the  place  where  the  Wise  Men  and 
Women  was  thronging  to  the  ball  than  Clarence  gets 
an  attack  of  his  bashful  misgivings ;  and  he  holds  on 
to  the  door  and  won't  let  me  drag  him  inside.  He 
says  what  was  the  use  of  him  going  to  a  ball,  anyway  ? 
for,  even  if  he  could  dance,  why,  no  woman  would  ever 
allow  it  of  him.  He  says  that  never  any  one  in  pet 
ticoats  but  always  give  a  sniff  at  him  and  whispers 
" bandy-legs "  or  " brick-top"  or  " bullet-head/7  and 
then  passes  him  by  in  the  cold.  "  Women  is  only  skin- 
deep,  anyway  j  that  's  my  philosophy,"  says  Clarence, 
in  a  loud  voice.  And  he  says  a  man  can  leave  his 
heart  and  soul  on  the  hat-rack,  if  he  only  comes  into  a 
girl's  parlor  with  a  stylish  face.  He  says  if  some  one 

13  193 


194  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

would  give  a  ball  entire  in  the  dark,  why,  then  he 
would  go  :  for  he  says  that  then  the  test  would  be  the 
size  of  your  boldness,  and  not  the  square  yards  of  your 
beauty ;  and  himself  would  bring  off  as  many  broken 
hearts  by  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  any  of  us 
spider-leg  divils.  And  this  he  adverts  with  special 
reference  to  a  tall  man  that  stood  dressed  in  the  forked 
tail  of  Satan  and  would  seem  to  be  smiling  contemp 
tuous  at  Clarence  from  behind  of  his  mask. 

Till  I  had  to  explain  to  O'Shay  that  his  countenance 
was  fully  suppressed  by  the  false  face  he  wore,  and 
was  n't  his  chances  as  equal  as  any  one  else's?  And 
had  he  ever  looked  that  handsome  and  unrecognizable 
in  his  life,  says  I,  as  he  did  to-night  in  the  skin  and 
visage  of  a  bird  ?  And  I  pretended  to  be  taken  down 
with  a  presentiment  that  here  he  was  doomed  to  meet 
with  the  lady  of  his  future  love. 

But  when  I  slid  him  out  on  the  waxy  floor,  with  the 
jam  of  fancy  dress  and  clatter  of  tongues  and  the 
glare  of  gas  and  two  hundred  ody-colognes  contending 
with  the  air,  it  brought  back  the  mournful  bend  to  his 
mind.  For  he  says,  look  at  7em  all  jabbering  to  each 
other;  and  we  did  n't  know  any  one  there ;  and  if  we 
did  know  her  we  would  n't  know  her,  for  every  girl 
Jill  had  her  nose  in  a  mask.  Till  I  put  it  in  his  ear 
that  if  his  wits  was  as  brazen  as  he  always  claimed 
they  would  be  when  once  dishandicapped  of  his  face, 
why,  let  him  dive  in  and  pick  out  the  mermaid  that 
tickled  his  choice.  But  what  he  would  grieve  in  reply 
was  engulfed  in  the  blare  of  the  band.  Clarence  awoke 
to  find  me  departed,  and  himself  strayed  and  lost  in 
a  galloping  waltz,  knocked  hither  and  yon  like  a  nine- 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  195 

pin.  He  struck  out  for  the  wall  like  drownding ;  and 
at  length  he  exudes  from  the  cloud  of  heels  and  climbs 
up  in  a  chair,  as  disturbed  as  an  owl  at  a  cat  show. 

Meself  had  gone  off  with  an  acquaintance  I  had 
made  while  stooping  to  pick  up  her  handkerchief. 
;T  was  an  able  dancer;  but  she  suffered  pitiful  from 
thirst,  such  that  't  was  more  than  an  hour  before  I 
took  notice  again  of  the  bird  of  paradise.  Bedad, 
there  he  was,  cocked  up  in  the  same  empty  space,  try 
ing  to  look  enjoyable— as  though  he  would  scorn  to 
dance  if  ye  begged  of  him,  and  had  spent  five  dollars 
for  his  false  face  and  feathers  pure  for  observing  the 
eccentricities  of  man.  'T  was  the  height  of  a  quadrille, 
and  the  only  creature  sitting  down,  save  Clarence,  was 
a  girl  I  had  noticed  before,  over  forninst  Clarence  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hall,  and  looking  as  stately  and 
mortified  as  himself.  She  was  dressed  in  a  Moorish 
veil  that  covered  her  head  entire,  and  a  bracelet  around 
her  waist  that  dangled  with  countless  ribbons  and 
bells.  I  kept  making  signals  for  Clarence  to  run  over 
and  draw  her  fire,  with  an  object  of  his  closing  in  with 
her  for  the  evening ;  and  the  man  in  the  forked  tail, 
which  I  now  recalled  I  had  seen  with  her  on  the  stairs, 
kept  nodding  approval  from  opposite  me  in  the  quad 
rille.  But  Clarence  protected  his  embarrassment  by 
pretending  not  to  see. 

So  after  the  quadrille  the  forked  tail  goes  over  and 
gets  the  lonely  girl,  and  parades  her  jingling  up  and 
down  before  Clarence  once  or  twice,  then  drops  her 
into  the  chair  next  to  Clarence  and  disappears  in  the 
crowd  like  a  philanthropic  man.  So  that  in  the  course 
of  some  seconds  Clarence  got  bold  to  look  with  the 


196  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

corner  of  his  eye  at  what  had  happened  beside  him ; 
and  he  judges  from  the  make  of  her  shoes  that  she  was 
a  likely  girl— too  likely  to  be  likely  to  take  up  with 
such  as  him,  he  says.  And  while  his  glance  was  crawl 
ing  up  slow  toward  her  veil  the  music  broke  out  with 
a  dizzy  mazurka— when  she  pushed  a  bit  for'ard  as 
if  to  rise,  and  Clarence  encounters  her  full  in  the  face 
of  the  veil,  with  her  eyes  displaying  the  signal  as  plain 
as  day :  "  If  ye  can  hit  a  house  ye  can  shoot  me  for 
this  dance  !"  Till  the  red  run  down  out  of  Clarence's 
hair  in  a  sunburst  of  rapturous  fright,  and  he  tied  up 
his  feet  in  a  knot  round  the  rungs  of  his  chair.  The 
girl  sat  back  with  a  bit  of  a  sigh,  though  still  gazing 
at  him ;  and  says  Clarence,  sure  if  he  stirred  a  hand 
she  would  speak  to  him.  Till  with  every  one  else  all 
rearing  and  plunging  to  the  dance,  here  sits  the  two 
of  'em  like  waxworks — alone  in  respect  of  sitting  down 
together,  and  together  in  respect  of  sitting  there  alone. 

"  Why,  ye  bad  little  man,"  I  whispers  to  him  by  and 
by,  "  this  elegant  girl  has  made  up  her  mind  that  she  '11 
dance  with  none  but  you  at  the  ball !" 

"  Ye  think  she 's  taken  such  a  fancy  to  me — as  that  ? " 
says  Clarence,  trying  not  to  laugh  with  pleasure. 

"Sure,"  says  I,  inventing  it  all  to  inflate  up  his 
courage.  "  And  if  ye  should  mew  in  her  ear  I  'm 
thinking  she  would  n't  scratch — ye  little  lady-killer  !'' 

"Lannigan,"  he  whispers,  shaking  his  fist,  "if  she 
speaks  to  me  I  'm  the  man  to  answer  back !" 

I  stood  up  in  front  of  him  and  looked  hard  at  the 
girl. 

"  I  agree  with  your  admiration,"  says  I  to  him,  aloud ; 
"  and  of  course  your  having  disjointed  your  hip  and 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  197 

can't  dance  this  evening  don't  interfere  with  agreeable 
conversation  at  all.  And  of  course/'  says  I,  "  a  mutual 
acquaintance  begun  at  a  ball  will  often  lead  to  the 
most  pleasant  complications."  If  that  would  n't  break 
the  ice  for  'em,  I  says  to  meself,  then  nothing  but  the 
police  could  force  'em  to  speak ;  and  I  faded  from  view. 
But  some  forty  minutes  later  I  found  meself  staring, 
the  same  as  the  man  in  the  forked  tail,  all  puzzled, 
across  the  hall.  For  there,  with  her  looking  at  him, 
side  by  side  sits  the  girl  and  the  bird  of  paradise, 
stuffed  and  mounted  the  same  as  before.  And  whe 
ther  no  word  had  yet  passed  between  'em,  or  whether 
each  one  had  long  ago  reiterated  all  the  sounds  he 
knowed  how  to  make  and  then  fallen  back  on  wireless 
telegraphy,  neither  me  nor  the  divil  would  seem  to 
divine.  For  it  had  happened  that  at  first  Clarence 
had  declared  to  himself  that  he  was  in  fact  a  bad  little 
bird,  and  he  would  have  a  tale  to  tell  on  this  girl  when 
he  saw  me  again.  And  he  had  begun  once  more  look 
ing  at  her  feet,  which  from  the  color  of  her  stockings 
he  interpreted  that  her  eyes  was  his  favorite  blue. 
And  remembering  that  her  head  was  wrapped  up  as 
choice  as  a  Florida  orange,  he  argues  that  she  was  as 
handsome  as  any  girl  at  the  ball  j  and  perhaps,  he  says 
to  himself,  here  was  the  lady  of  his  fate,  and  him  and 
her  sitting  and  falling  in  love  with  each  other !  The 
idea  made  him  turn  spontaneous  to  look  once  more  at 
her  veil— when  her  eyes  made  a  dart  like  a  spider,  and 
caught  him  that  full  in  the  face  that  Clarence  uttered 
the  most  extensive  blush  of  his  life,  and  raised  him 
self  off  his  chair  on  his  hands,  in  his  shame.  And 
there,  with  time  rushing  by,  he  hung  on  the  knife- 


198  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

edge  of  three  dilemmas :  one  being  anxiety  lest  she 
would  speak  to  him ;  and  another  being  fear  lest  she 
would  take  no  notice  of  him ;  and  the  sharpest  of  all 
being  a  terrible  yearning  to  run  from  the  place  like 
an  ostrich  and  bury  his  head  in  the  sand. 

Till  now  the  divil  walks  over  and  looks  for  a  minute 
at  Clarence  that  close  as  if  thinking  to  buy  him,  which 
begins  to  rile  the  little  man  ;  so  that  the  divil  only  says, 
"  Last  dance  before  supper !"  and  walks  off  j  and  the 
girl  begins  to  wake  up  as  though  something  was  about 
to  happen.  She  begun  pounding  the  waltz  ag'in'  her 
hand  with  her  fan,  which  Clarence  takes  for  a  sign 
impending.  He  remembers  he  had  forgot  what  it  was 
he  was  going  to  answer  if  she  should  speak  to  him ; 
and  he  heaves  up  a  nervous  sigh  that  contains  all  his 
feelings  of  hope  and  distress—  when  the  girl,  bedad, 
heaves  up  the  mate  to  it,  as  if  he  had  spoken  first  and 
she  was  answering  back.  And  to  drown  his  alarm 
Clarence  begins  humming  the  tune  of  the  dance— when 
on  the  second  bar  the  girl  crowds  in  to  hum  it  with 
him,  and  tosses  her  head  as  if  to  say  "What  next?" 
Then  the  band  shut  down ;  every  one  dove  to  the  wall 
for  a  chair  to  blow  off  in ;  and  Clarence  thinks,  sure 
in  the  middle  of  such  confusion  she  will  break  through 
the  ice  and  him  be  floundering  in  conversation  with 
her.  And  such  a  crowd  of  broad-handed  ballet-girls, 
circus-riders,  and  Lady  Macbeths  flopped  down  on  her 
side,  and  such  a  hulking  bunch  of  milkmaids,  colum 
bines,  and  Sleeping  Beauties  dropped  down  on  his  side, 
that  they  wedged  him  in  like  a  scene  in  a  horse-car, 
till  the  scent  of  her  handkerchief  went  up  to  his  nose 
like  chloroform,  and  his  heart  darted  north,  east,  and 


CLARENCE  AT   THE  BALL  199 

south  like  a  mouse  in  a  trap,  till  he  thought  he  would 
die  with  expectations. 

But  the  next  minute  some  one  down  the  hall  raised 
the  cry  of  supper ;  and  the  five  hundred  Wise  Men  and 
Women  rushed  in  a  panic  for  the  door.  In  ten  sec 
onds  here  was  Clarence  and  the  girl  alone  in  the  empty 
hall  like  left  by  the  tide. 

The  man  in  the  forked  tail  had  lingered  in  the  cor 
ridor,  with  his  chin  in  his  hand.  In  a  moment  he 
comes  slowly  back,  and  says  he  to  the  girl : 

"How  ye  doing?" 

And  the  girl  gives  a  quarter  turn  toward  Clarence, 
then  the  half  of  a  laugh,  and  says  she : 

"  Who  said  I  ims  doing?" 

But  the  meaning  of  this  was  opaque  to  the  divil, 
and  the  situation  seeming  delicate,  he  scratched  his 
head,— for  he  had  the  way  of  a  gentleman,  though  a 
villain  at  heart,— and  says  he : 

" Ain't  you  two  going  in  to  supper?" 

The  girl  gave  a  decent  pause ;  but  then,  when  Clar 
ence  still  sits  red  and  dumb  and  staring  at  his  nose, 
she  suddenly  rips  out  a  "  No !"  and  jumps  up  and 
throws  herself  in  a  chair  away  from  him.  Till  the 
divil  rubs  his  shin  ag'in'  his  leg,  for  he  could  n't  make 
out  for  the  life  of  him  whether  the  girl  was  foaming 
because  he  would  n't  go  away  and  leave  her  with  the 
bird  of  paradise,  or  mad  because  Clarence  had  done 
nothing  but  camp  on  the  ice.  So  he  says  to  her  : 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  ye  introduce  your  friend  ? " 

"  Why  ? "  shrieks  the  girl.  "  Because  I  ain't  made 
any  friend !" 

The  divil  gives  a  snort  of  complete  distaste. 


200  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"Then  what  good  are  ye?"  he  burst  out.  "If  ye 
ain't  made  a  friend  to-night,  then  ye  never  will.  Why, 
you  could  n't  pick  raspberries !"  he  blurts,  with  a 
glance  of  disdain  at  Clarence's  feathers.  And  he 
stalks  out  the  door. 

Clarence  sat  broiling  in  his  chair.  A  man,  he  mut 
ters,  that  would  speak  like  that  to  a  beautiful  young 
creature  like  this !  His  shoulders  begun  rising  in 
knots,  forgetting  the  girl  herself —that  sat  with  the 
struggle  of  forks  and  plates  in  her  ears  from  afar. 
She  must  have  been  counting  twenty;  for  up  she 
jumps,  throws  down  her  fan  and  stamps  on  the 
remains,  then  jingles  out  into  the  corridor. 

"Look  here!"  says  her  voice,  like  a  rasp.  "I  'm 
going  home !" 

"  Then  I  would  go  home,"  says  the  voice  of  the  divil, 
"  and  never  come  to  a  ball  again  !" 

And  with  this  Clarence  hears  her  clatter  down  the 
stairs  and  out  in  the  rain.  The  air  was  free  of  femi 
nine  presence  now,  and  out  waddles  the  bird  of  par 
adise,  as  bristling  as  a  bantam  and  as  bold  as  a  hawk. 
He  finds  the  divil  at  the  top  of  the  long,  steep  stairs, 
looking  down  in  a  rage  at  the  swinging  doors  below. 
The  divil  turns  quick  around  and  says : 

"  Look  here,  me  cockatoo,  what  intentions  have  ye 
with  that  lady?" 

Then  Clarence  takes  two  steps  f or'ard,  and  leans  up 
hard  ag'in'  the  divil,  and  inquires  if  the  divil  was  try 
ing  to  push  him  down  the  stairs.  And  proceeding 
from  this,  Clarence  must  of  course  commit  one  of  his 
rudenesses,  such  as  was  always  filling  me  soul  with 
shameful  impropriety.  I  will  not  say  what  it  was, 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  201 

any  more  than  to  hint  that  the  two  of  'em  arrived  at 
the  bottom  of  the  stairs  in  the  most  discourteous  con 
fusion,  and  that  in  the  argument  ensuing  Clarence 
leaves  the  divil  lying  minus  of  his  tail,  and  walks  off 
without  asking  of  his  health. 

"  YE  cloud  of  disgrace  !"  says  I  to  Clarence,  next  morn 
ing.  "  What  harm  did  he  mean  ? " 

"What  harm!"  says  Clarence.  "Did  n't  he  ruin 
me  life  ?  Would  n't  she  like  as  not  have  spoke  before 
morning?  And  here  he  shames  her  out  of  the  place ! 
When  will  I  ever  see  the  poor  darling  again  ? "  he  wails. 
"As  handsome  a  girl  as  ever  sit  down  in  a  chair !"  he 
says.  "  And  maybe  crying  her  eyes  out  this  minute— 
for  we  '11  never  meet  again  this  side  of  the  grave !" 

Till  that  afternoon  Clarence  saw  a  tall  man  come 
aboard  of  us  and  single  him  out  from  the  crew. 

"  I  'm  told  your  name  is  O'Shay,"  says  the  tall  man, 
all  solemn. 

"Are  you  the  divil— the  one  I  was  speaking  to  on 
the  way  down-stairs  last  night  ? "  says  Clarence,  glass 
ing  it  over  with  hope  of  hearing  about  the  girl. 

"  Ye  mean  the  gentleman  in  the  costume  of  Satan, 
I  suppose,"  says  the  tall  man.  "  No.  As  to  me,  I  'm 
his  lawyer.  And  as  to  himself,  he  is  dead." 

"  Dead  !  "  says  Clarence,  turning  blue. 

"Ye  hove  him  in  the  chest  with  a  cobblestone," 
says  the  lawyer,  "  and  he  died  of  a  broken  heart." 

And  of  course  in  such  circumstances,  says  the  law 
yer,  the  least  that  Clarence  could  do  to  avoid  ill  feeling, 
supposing  of  course  he  wished  to  spare  the  expense  of 
being  tried  and  hanged  for  his  crime,  was  either  to 


202  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

pay  five  thousand  dollars  obsequies  to  the  widow,  or 
else  offer  to  marry  her  in  exchange  for  the  murder 
and  kindly  return  the  tail  of  the  hired  costume.  And 
Clarence  could  have  twenty-four  hours  to  think  it  over. 

Which  he  did  think  it  over ;  for  it  got  terrible  on 
his  mind.  And  he  begun  to  waste  away  that  bad  that 
at  evening  I  obtained  leave  with  him,  and  we  went 
up-town  to  discover  whether  the  man  was  killed  or 
not,  and  if  the  lawyer  was  not  trying  to  obtain  either 
money  or  marriage  on  false  pretenses  :  for  I  suspected 
the  lawyer  to  be  the  man  behind  the  mask  of  the  divil ; 
but  what  was  his  use  of  a  widow  in  his  scheme  I 
could  n't  divine.  So  I  borrowed  a  Prince  Albert  coat 
and  a  stovepipe,  which  is  ag'in'  the  navy  regulations, 
and  I  tried  to  walk  like  a  member  of  the  bar,  with 
Clarence  towing  behind  like  a  gallows  parade.  The 
house  was  one  of  them  Philadelphia  brick  living-bins 
that  differ  from  the  next  ten  thousand  only  by  the 
number  on  the  door.  The  lawyer  opens  to  us  in  his 
carpet  slippers,  and  apologizes  for  having  no  heat  in 
the  house,  observing  that  he  was  an  especial  cold 
blooded  man.  He  looks  at  me  paws,  all  engraved  with 
tattooing,  and  at  me  citizen's  togs,  which  was  a  few 
inches  spare  at  the  extremities ;  and  I  did  n't  seem  to 
scare  him  much.  He  arranged  me  on  a  horsehair  sofa, 
and  Clarence  dwindles  down  beside  me  on  a  chair. 
Then  the  lawyer  cleared  his  throat,  and  I  spoke. 

"  I  understand,"  says  I,  "  that  there  has  been  a  slight 
contusion  between  me  client,  Mr.  O'Shay,  and  your 
client,  Mr.  Smudd.  We  came,"  says  I,  "  to  bring  back 
your  client's  tail,"  says  I,  holding  it  up,  "  and  call  it 
square  without  further  animadversions." 


CLARENCE  AT   THE  BALL  203 

"  I  regret/'  says  the  lawyer,  all  in  a  minor  key, 
"  that  the  lesion  between  your  client  and  the  late  Mr. 
Smudd  cannot  be  healed  by  that  yard  and  a  half  of  red 
flannel.  For  not  only  was  there  assault,  battery,  and 
manslaughter,  resulting  in  death,  but  your  client  went 
so  far  as  to  spread  the  entire  proceedings  with  a  can 
opy  of  libel  and  calumny.  Now,  to  begin  with,  I 
assume,"  says  he,  with  invidious  coyness,  "that 
'twould  be  somewhat  inconvenient  to  your  client  to 
dangle  by  the  neck  till  maybe  he  forgets  his  name  ? " 

"  Ye  '11  pardon  me,"  says  I,  "  but  the  verdict  is  not 
yet  tied  round  me  client's  neck.  And  I  would  first 
request  that  ye  produce  some  of  Mr.  Smudd's  remains. 
For  at  present  we  have  nothing  but  a  gentleman's 
word  of  honor— meaning  yourself,"  says  I,  all  polite— 
"  to  prove  that  Mr.  Smudd  is  dead." 

I  had  thought  this  would  take  a  trick,  but  the  law 
yer  only  give  a  kindly  smile. 

"  Ye  don't  think,"  says  he,  "  that,  out  of  respect  for 
your  client's  feelings,  we  let  Smudd  lay  here  in  the 
city,  where  the  police  would  get  hold  of  the  matter ! 
Why,  the  first  thing  he  said  himself,  when  he  heard 
his  heart  was  broke,  was  to  have  us  send  him  across 
to  New  Jersey;  for  otherwise  he  feared  that  Mr. 
O'Shay  would  be  brought  into  court.  'And  I  don't 
want  him  to  pay  for  his  terrible  crime  by  hanging/ 
says  Smudd.  'I  would  prefer  he  would  marry  me 
widow.' " 

"  Your  words  bring  tears  to  me  eyes,"  says  I,  with 
a  smile ;  "  but  I  still  insist  that  ye  prove  that  your 
client  is  dead." 

"  And  I  regret,  then,"  says  the  lawyer,  with  a  shrug, 


204  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"  that  the  only  proof  is  involved  with  a  coroner's  jury 
and  trying  your  client  for  murder." 

The  man  sat  that  comfortable  in  his  chair  that  I 
could  see  Clarence  swinging  in  the  jail-yard. 

"  Anyway,"  says  I,  "ye  '11  have  to  prove  that  death 
was  subsequent  to  the  cobblestone.  Now,  beginning 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  what  have  ye  to  prove  that 
death  had  not  already  ensued  when  the  trouble  com 
menced  ? " 

"What  did  he  say  to  ye  rolling  down  the  stairs?" 
says  the  lawyer,  turning  quick  to  Clarence,  which  had 
sunk  to  a  spot  on  the  haircloth. 

"He  says  'Dog!'  to  me,"  answers  Clarence,  with  a 
husky  per  cent,  of  his  voice.  The  blockhead  would 
not  understand  my  signal  to  make  him  keep  still. 

"  And  what  did  he  say  just  as  ye  abutted  ag'in'  him 
with  the  cobblestone  ? "  says  the  lawyer. 

"He  says  more  <DogP  to  me,"  whispers  the  dunce. 
"  By  which  ye  hope  to  prove  that  the  corpse  was 
alive  when  Clarence  killed  it,"  says  I,  in  a  rage.  "  In 
which  case  me  defense  will  be  insanity ;  for  a  man 
that  will  give  himself  away  like  that  is  a  blithering 
fool  and  deserves  to  be  hanged.  But  first,"  says  I, 
bringing  down  me  fist,  "  I  insist  on  a  private  view  of 
your  client's  remains.  Otherwise  I  begin  legal  pro 
ceedings  to-morrow  morning;  and  the  first  thing  ye 
know,  I  will  file  a  caveat,  come  into  court  with  a 
demurrer,  and  throw  meself  in  escrow." 

It  looked  like  he  was  as  good  a  lawyer  as  me  j  for 
he  says,  without  a  ripple,  though  the  word  "  escrow  " 
was  as  new  to  him  as  to  me : 

"  I  have  anticipated  each  of  those  moves.     I  shall 


CLARENCE   AT  THE  BALL  205 

apply  for  an  injunction  ag'in'  your  caveat,  cross-coun 
ter  your  demurrer  with  a  writ  of  nolens  volens ;  and 
if  ye  think  ye  can  influence  the  jury  by  throwing  fits 
in  court,"  says  he,  ".why,  ye  don't  know  the  price  of 
votes  in  Philadelphia." 

I  could  see  meself  weeping  at  Clarence's  grave. 
O'Shay  looks  up  appealing  out  of  his  shoes  to  me. 
The  lawyer  turns  to  his  desk. 

"  I  will  write  one  telegram  to  the  coroner,"  says  he ; 
"and  another  to  Mr.  Smudd's  remains— directing  'em 
to  get  on  the'  first  train  from  Atlantic  City." 

"Hold  on!"  says  I.  "'T  is  common  law  that  ye 
can't  shift  a  body  from  one  State  to  another  without 
a  writ  of  habeas  corpius.  Produce  your  writ !" 

But  he  never  stops  writing. 

"I  've  a  drawerful  of  such  writs,"  says  he,— "both 
male  and  female."  And  we  sits  in  silence,  with  the 
pen  scratching  the  paper  and  Clarence's  eyes  turned 
up  like  a  dying  fish. 

"Then,"  says  I,  "we  accept  your  conclusions. 
Owing  to  financial  fluctuations,  me  client  can  raise  bat 
fifteen  dollars  of  the  amount  ye  name  as  compensation. 
Fifteen  dollars  and  the  red  flannel  tail,"  says  I,  "  and 
let  it  go  at  that !" 

The  lawyer  give  a  sickly  smile.  "  Not  for  a  ton  of 
red  flannel  tails,"  says  he ;  and  he  takes  up  his  pen. 

"  Then,"  says  I,  "  Mr.  O'Shay  takes  up  with  the  other 
horn  of  your  proposition,  and  offers  to  marry  Mrs. 
Smudd.  So  be  it.  And  I  hope  the  engagement  will 
prove  a  happy  ending  to  last  night's  misunderstanding, 
which  was  entirely  without  malice  aforethought,  but 
merely  Clarence  over  judged  the  durability  of  her  hus- 


206  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

band's  ribs.  And  I  'm  thinking,"  says  I,  in  disgust, 
"  that  a  man  with  a  paper-mache  shell  like  that  ought 
to  wear  a  badge." 

The  lawyer  gives  a  smile  of  great  pleasure. 

"  Very  well,"  says  he.  "  Mr.  O'Shay  will  offer  Mrs. 
Smudd  the  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman.  I  will  not 
introduce  him  as  the  murderer  of  her  husband,  how 
ever,  but  merely  as  a  common  sailor;  for  I  think 
't  would  be  more  delicate  for  all  concerned.  And  since 
time  is  all  the  money  your  client  has,  why,  if  he  will 
kindly  step  into  the  back  parlor  and  come  out  in  ten 
minutes  with  Mrs.  Smudd's  hand,  we  will  all  drown 
the  late  unpleasantness  in  a  small  glass  of  bitters." 

He  slides  back  the  door  to  the  empty  room  like  a 
spider,  and  waves  for  the  fly  to  pass  in.  For  a  moment 
the  little  man  stuck  to  the  floor ;  and  he  swallowed  his 
throat,  blinking  like  a  barber's  scissors.  I  gave  him 
me  hand  good-by. 

" Clarence,"  says  I,  "was  there  anything  ye  wanted 
to  say  ? " 

"  Only  this,"  says  Clarence,  yanking  at  his  cap :  "  if 
ye  ever  see  that  girl  at  the  ball  again,  why,  tell  her  I 
only  done  it  to  save  me  neck !" 

He  gives  a  couple  of  teary  winks  at  the  wall ;  then 
he  shuffles  across  the  threshold,  and  the  door  slides 
behind  him  and  his  doom. 

Here  he  was,  he  says  to  himself,  in  for  life  with  a 
woman  he  would  n't  know  on  the  street.  And  good-by 
to  that  beautiful  soul  at  the  ball— maybe  she  would 
hear  of  his  fate  some  day  and  shed  a  few  tears  down 
her  Grecian  nose  in  his  memory.  What  a  bad  man  he 
was,  to  have  slain  one  of  his  kind !  And  what  could  ye 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  207 

expect,  with  the  luck  of  his  flaming  hair?  His  soul 
froze  up  with  the  jingle  of  petticoats  coming  down  the 
stairs  in  high-heel  shoes.  He  backs  off  in  the  corner. 
A  door  swung  open,  and  in,  with  a  rattle  of  bells,  veil 
and  all,  come  the  lonely  girl  of  the  ball. 

"Is  Mrs.  Smudd  you?"  says  Clarence,  like  to  cry. 

"Not  any  more,"  says  the  voice  behind  the  veil. 
"Make  yourself  at  home;  for  some  one  killed  the 
brute  last  night  with  a  cobblestone,  and  left  me 
sitting  in  the  hands  of  fate,"  says  she,  with  expecta 
tion.  And  her  having  the  veil  on  was  only  gladness 
for  Clarence ;  for  it  seemed  to  soften  the  embarrass 
ment  of  his  joy. 

"I  think  I  have  seen  ye  somewhere  before,"  says 
Mrs.  Smudd,  to  take  up  the  slack  in  the  conversa 
tion,  "  though  not  in  the  face." 

At  the  same  moment  Clarence  looked  up  and  saw 
the  unfortunate  misperspective  of  his  own  face  re 
flected  in  the  mirror ;  and  the  hope  of  his  heart  sunk 
out  of  sight  again.  Now  she  did  see  his  face ;  and 
would  an  angel  like  her  take  up  with  such  as  him  ? 
No ;  she  would  first  let  him  hang ! 

"I  suppose'ye  '11  be  marrying  soon,"  he  broke  out, 
with  a  cold  perspiration. 

"Not  unless  I  'm  asked,"  says  Mrs.  Smudd,  all  firm. 

"  Some  long-legged  man  with  a  straight  nose !" 
says  Clarence.  "  Of  course,  if  anybody  has  a  stylish 
countenance,  never  mind  the  rest." 

" Is  that  how  you  look  at  it?"  says  Mrs.  Smudd. 

"Not  at  all,"  says  Clarence.  "With  me  beauty 
don't  count.  7T  is  only  the  size  of  your  heart  that 
figures  with  me.  That 's  why  I  expect  to  die  single," 


208  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

says  he,  hearing  the  death-warrant  being  read  in 
his  cell. 

"Ye  mean  it  don't  count  if  a  person  is  ugty,  so 
long  as  the  heart  beats  the  tune  of  true  love  ? "  says 
Mrs.  Smudd,  all  soft. 

"I  do,"  says  Clarence,  shifting  so  not  to  get  the 
taste  of  his  face  from  the  mirror.  "  That  's  my  phi 
losophy,"  says  he.  "  I  could  have  been  as  handsome 
a  man  as  ye  like,  if  I  wanted,"  says  Clarence ;  "  but 
't  was  of  her  own  free  will  that  me  mother  married  a 
plain-featured  man.  I  ;m  thinking  she  had  more 
sense  than  the  girls  do  now,"  he  hints. 

Mrs.  Smudd  hove  a  pleasurable  sigh  that  floated 
him  back  to  the  evening  before,  and  made  him  think 
of  a  mouth  all  milk  and  roses. 

"Don't  say  that,  Mr.  O'Shay,"  says  she,  all  plead 
ing.  "  For  ye  speak  the  very  words  that  are  printed 
on  me  heart.  Any  other  man  would  begin  with  tell 
ing  me  I  was  handsome ;  and  if  any  one  should  pre 
tend  to  love  me  on  that  account  I  would  mistrust 
him— I  would  sure  mistrust  him !"  she  murmurs. 
"  Mr.  O'Shay,"  says  she,  "  I  never  hoped  to  meet  with 
any  one  like  you  !  Dear  me,"  says  she,  "it 's  shocking 
how  the  clock  goes  round !"  She  throws  an  eye  at 
the  time.  Behind  the  door  the  lawyer  looks  at  me 
and  coughs.  Clarence  gathers  himself  to  take  the 
ditch  or  fall  in  the  mire. 

"Then,  Mrs.  Smudd,"  says  he,  "I  would  like  to 
say— could  ye  find  it  convenient— to  do  me  the  honor 
to  be— to— ?"  says  Clarence,  trying  to  rest  in  the 
middle  of  the  jump. 

"To  be  your  wife?"  utters  Mrs.  Smudd. 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  209 

A  blush  like  the  red  flannel  tail  run  down  out  of 
Clarence's  hair,  and  his  eyes  tried  to  hide  in  the  back 
of  his  head ;  then,  as  faint  as  the  end  of  a  speaking- 
tube,  he  whispers :  "  Yes  !" 

He  heard  her  sit  down  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Then  I  suppose  ye  '11  insist  on  me  taking  off  me 
veil !"  says  she,  in  the  middle  of  a  long  pause.  "  And 
ye  swear  ye  mean  all  the  sweet  words  ye  said,  dear  ? " 
says  Mrs.  Smudd. 

"Yes,"  says  Clarence,  from  a  bit  farther  up  the 
tube. 

"Then,"  says  Mrs.  Smudd,  with  a  laugh,  "I  sup 
pose  I  will  have  to  take  off  the  veil— first !" 

She  begun  removing  pins  and  bric-a-brac  from  the 
veil ;  and  it  seemed  to  Clarence  like  every  pin  was  a 
spike  drawn  out  of  his  flesh  and  filled  with  sweet  oil. 
For  he  was  not  to  be  hanged,  but  instead  was  to 
marry  the  beautiful  belle  of  the  ball,  like  the  prince 
in  the  fairy-book.  He  gave  a  look  around  the  room : 
there  was  divil  a  soul  to  see  what  would  happen  next. 
A  terrible  smile  stretched  his  mouth.  Mrs.  Smudd 
gave  a  switch  to  her  veil,  and  leaned  over  and  looked 
down  in  his  face.  And  Clarence  fell  back  in  his  chair. 

I  VE  heard  of  a  frog-witted  Frenchman  that  climbed 
all  proud  one  night  half-way  to  the  top  of  a  steeple, 
thinking  't  was  an  angel  awaiting  to  marry  him  there. 
Till  sudden  he  finds  himself  face  to  face  with  a  hor 
rible  gargoyle,  looming  over  and  grinning  to  him  in 
the  moon.  And  he  slides  all  the  way  back  to  the 
churchyard,  leaving  his  mind  in  the  air.  'T  was  like 
this  with  Clarence  O'Shay.  And  he  did  n't  know  yet 

14 


210  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

of  the  evil  old  party  she  was,  conniving  to  get  herself 
down  off  the  shelf  by  false  pretenses.  Oh,  what  a 
face  she  had !  Ye  could  hear  the  tick  of  the  clock. 

"Are  ye  ill,  dear?"  says  she,  with  her  smile  dis 
solving  in  doubt. 

He  sits  a  long  time.  Then  he  opens  his  eyes  and 
scribbles  a  piece  of  paper. 

"  What 's  this?"  says  she,  aching  to  read  it.  But 
he  only  motions  solemn  to  the  door.  She  slides  it 
open,  with  forty  lines  of  hard  suspicion  on  her  face. 

"Your  friend,"  says  she,  having  closed  Clarence 
tight  in  the  back  parlor,  "pretends  to  be  taken  with 
a  spell."  And  ye  could  tell  by  the  way  her  ears  laid 
back  that  she  was  n't  nigh  done  with  him  yet.  I  read 
what  Clarence  had  written : 


Let  liim  bring  on  his  habeas  corpius. 

C. 


Then  I  opened  the  door  and  looked  in.  But  all 
we  could  find  of  O'Shay  was  an  open  window  and  two 
little  stars  a- winking  from  the  sky. 

WHEN  I  came  aboard  at  midnight  here  he  was, 
stuffing  himself  with  all  he  owned. 

"  It 's  South  America  at  daylight  on  that  brig  out 
there,"  he  whispers.  "  But  I  think  he  killed  himself, 
all  the  same !" 

"Ye  need  n't  desert  the  navy,"  says  I.  "For  the 
lawyer  was  the  divil  in  the  forked  tail,  and  she  was 
his  indisposable  sister.  She  gave  it  all  away  in  her 
rage." 


CLARENCE  AT  THE  BALL  211 

Then  we  went  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  peace  of  a 
pipeful. 

"That  face— I  'm  going  to  sit  up  all  night!"  says 
Clarence,  closing  his  eyes  to  the  memory  of  it. 

"But  speaking  of  beauty/'  says  I,  "why,  what  of 
your  philosophy  ? " 

"  Me  philosophy  !"  says  Clarence,  exuding  the  word 
in  the  air  with  his  smoke.  "  Me  opinion  of  philosophy 
is  henceforth  to  leave  it  alone.  >T  is  entire  too  apt 
to  blow  up— with  yourself  on  board." 


THE   LANNIGAN   SYSTEM    WITH   GIRLS 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  "WITH  GIRLS 


HEN  the  seventy  blue-jackets  had 
tumbled  into  their  second-class 
sleepers  at  Jersey  City,  bound  for 
Mare  Island,  there  had  been  a  good 
deal  of  leave-taking;  but  no  girl 
had  crossed  the  river  to  hear  any 
promises  from  Clarence  O'Shay. 
Four  days  later,  on  the  last  slow  grades  of  the  Ari 
zona  mountains,  when  some  one  with  a  banjo  had 
finished  bawling  through  the  tobacco-smoke : 

Ev'ry  nigger  has  a  lady  but  me  ! 

Clarence  said : 

"Some  men  can  bag  the  women,  and  some  men 
can't ;  and  that  ?s  the  end  of  it.77 

"  I  don't  say  that  a  little  sawed-off  man  like  you 
would  ever  class  in  with  Don  Juan,"  said  Lannigan, 
after  a  moment,  "but  you  have  no  science  and  no 
system ;  and  that 's  why  you  sit  all  the  time  with  the 
girl  that  has  the  wooden  leg  whenever  you  go  to  a 
ball." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  how  many  hand-painted  hat-bands 
do  you  get  sent  through  the  mail  ? "  said  Clarence. 

"Because  I  can  walk  Broadway  without  looking 

215 


216  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

behind  me,"  said  Lannigan,  "  was  I  never  a  bit  of  a 
flier  meself  ?  I  've  been  that  embroiled  with  a  girl 
that  I  could  neither  sit,  stand,  nor  run ;  neither  lie,  tell 
the  truth,  nor  keep  still.  But  you— you  don't  speak 
the  female  language." 

"Well,  what  kind  of  a  system?"  said  Clarence. 

"Suppose  my  middle  finger  was  a  pretty  young 
thing  like  peaches  and  cream,"  said  Lannigan ;  "  and 
suppose  my  stump  of  a  left-hand  thumb  was  Clarence 
O'Shay.  You  heave  alongside  before  she  knows  it, 
and  you  open  on  her  like  this :  l  You  're  the  finest  girl 
I  Ve  seen  from  here  to  Yokohama ! ' " 

"And  then  have  her  say  to  me,  'Come  off,  little 
man  !  You  're  giving  me  paper  flowers  ! ' " 

"Most  likely,"  said  Lannigan;  "but  that  's  only 
female  language.  It  's  the  same  as  though  she  said, 
'  I  wish  you  meant  that,  Mr.  O'Shay ;  but  I  'm  afraid 
you  don't.  With  so  much  counterfeit  money  these 
days,  we  girls  can't  be  too  careful.'  And  then  you 
say  how  it  hurts  you  to  be  doubted,  with  her  beauty 
gone  to  your  heart  like  brandy;  and  you  a  lonely 
man,  as  trustful  as  a  child ;  and  how  you  're  longing 
for  a  happy  home,  with  a  canary-bird  and  a  waxwork 
in  the  parlor." 

"  But  what  would  I  be  doing  with  a  happy  home," 
said  Clarence,  "  and  me  in  China  ? " 

"  What  does  a  woman  care  if  a  thing  is  true  or  not," 
said  Lannigan,  "if  she  finds  a  man  that  can  make  her 
believe  it  ?  You  tell  her  it 's  passing  the  rest  of  your 
days  with  her  or  drownding  yourself  to-morrow." 

"  Who  'd  have  the  face  to  say  that,"  said  Clarence, 
"if  he  did  n't  mean  it?" 


THE  LANNIGAN   SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         217 

"That 's  what  she  '11  think/'  said  Lannigan. 

"  She  's  more  apt  to  give  me  the  laugh,  and  say, 
1  Rubber  gum-drops  ! ' "  said  Clarence. 

"Let  her  keep  on  saying  it,"  said  Lannigan.  "All 
of  a  sudden  you  change  your  tactics.  You  begin  to 
get  mad  because  she  doubts  you.  You  drop  your  face 
and  pick  up  your  hat — " 

Clarence  sniffed.  His  mind  traveled  back  to  his 
last  evening  in  Brooklyn.  It  was  an  aifair  of  which 
he  had  not  spoken  to  Lannigan,  but  Clarence  blurted 
out: 

"  That 's  just  what  I  did  do  !  " 

"And  what  did  she  say?"  said  Lannigan,  holding 
his  pipe. 

"  I  grabbed  me  cap,  and  I  says,  '  I  'm  going,'  I  says. 
1  Do  you  know  where  I  'in  going  ? '  I  says.  '  I  can't 
say  I  do,'  says  she.  l  Well,'  says  I, i  I  'm  going  where 
me  word  is  believed ;  I  'm  going  where  me  face- value 
is  worth  a  little  more  than  two  beers  on  the  dollar/  I 
says  j  '  and  I  'm  never  coming  back.'  Then  she  gave 
me  a  smile— a  smile!"  said  Clarence,  hotly.  "'Oh, 
is  that  where  you  're  going!'  says  she.  'Well,  good 
night,  Mr.  O'Shay/  says  she;  'and  I  'm  sorry  you 
have  so  far  to  go.' " 

O'Shay  stuck  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  produced  a 
succession  of  clouds.  Lannigan  screened  his  face 
with  a  hand  that  seemed  to  be  scratching  his  temple. 

"  If  that 's  what  your  system  comes  to,"  said  Clar 
ence,  "  you  can  have  my  stock  in  it." 

"Never  mind  the  system,"  said  Lannigan;  "the 
trouble  was  you.  For  you  fell  in  love.  And  the  devil 
himself,  when  in  love  with  a  woman,  has  nothing  to 


218  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

do  but  to  throw  up  his  hands  and  sink ;  for  then  it 
is  she  that  has  worked  the  system  on  you." 

THE  next  morning,  when  the  dawn  was  changing 
colors  on  the  Sierra  in  the  Lower  San  Joaquin  valley, 
the  train  with  the  extra  sleepers  at  the  rear  stopped 
at  a  water-tank,  where  the  train-crew  assembled  at  a 
smoking  axle  of  the  tender.  For  several  miles  around 
there  was  no  habitation.  A  maiden  of  heroic  size, 
who  kept  brushing  waves  of  fawn-colored  hair  from 
her  forehead,  galloped  up  astride  of  a  pony,  and 
walked  him  along  the  side  of  the  cars  away  from  the 
tank.  But  there  were  no  fine  ladies  framed  in  the 
windows  of  the  vestibuled  platforms.  She  halted  by 
the  last  car,  where  there  was  the  least  chance  of  a 
too-familiar  word  from  a  brakeman;  and  she  sat 
musing,  broad  and  straight  in  the  saddle,  with  one 
bare  forearm  hiding  in  feminine  roundness  the  ripple 
of  muscles  as  hard  as  a  man's. 

"You  're  the  finest  girl  I  ever  seen  from  here  to 
Yokohama,"  said  a  Gaelic  voice. 

She  stared  at  a  small,  broad  sailor,  whose  little  blue 
eyes  glanced  past  her  face. 

"And  your  beauty  ;s  gone  to  me  heart  like  brandy 
and  peaches,"  he  complained,  shifting  his  glance  to 
beyond  her  other  side.  He  wore  strange,  flaring 
trousers,  such  as  she  had  never  seen  before,  and  since 
it  was  going  to  be  hot,  he  was  in  his  gray  undershirt, 
through  which  showed  the  dents  and  knots  of  very 
masculine  arms  and  shoulders.  The  water  of  the 
morning  wash  glistened  in  his  cropped  hair. 

"And  me  a  lonely  man,  and  trustful  as  a  child," 


THE  LANNIGAN   SYSTEM  WITH  GIKLS         219 

he  said  bitterly ;  "  and  longing'  for  a  happy  home, 
with  a  wax  canary-bird  in  the  parlor." 

He  talked  not  glibly,  but  with  a  diffidence  which 
proved  that  these  were  his  first  words  of  the  kind  to 
a  woman.  He  stooped  to  the  road-bed,  and  made 
long  choice  of  a  stone,  which  he  balanced  on  the  rail. 

"  It  's  cruel  hard  to  be  doubted,"  he  muttered,  with 
a  hostile  look  at  the  pony.  The  solitary  stone  was 
eloquent  to  a  heart  of  so  much  softer  substance.  The 
girl's  mouth  closed  in  a  faint  smile. 

"  Was  you  watching  me  all  the  time  from  the  car- 
window  ? "  she  said. 

"  Of  course  I  was,"  said  Clarence,  resentfully. 

She,  then,  was  not  the  only  one  to  dream  of  a 
happy  home.  She  gazed  while  he  balanced  another 
stone  beside  the  first. 

"  I  don't  reckon  you  'd  like  living  up  our  way,"  she 
said,  pulling  the  mane  of  the  pony,  which  cocked  its 
ears  at  the  hiss  of  the  loosened  air-brakes.  "It  's 
twenty  miles  from  us  to  a  store." 

"All  right,"  said  Clarence,  turning  quickly  to  his 
car;  "if  me  reputation  is  that  shrunk  with  you,  I  '11 
take  it  back  on  the  train.  But  I  like  this  place— 
that 's  all." 

"  I  did  n't  say  I  did  n't  believe  you— not  yet,"  said 
the  girl.  The  brakes  were  set  again,  and  Clarence 
let  go  of  the  hand-rail.  "  I  was  only  saying  that  if  you 
should  live  up  there  in  the  hills,  why,  you  'd  get  lonely," 
she  finished,  in  feminine  language. 

"  What,  lonely  with  you ! "  said  Clarence  to  the 
pony.  "  It  's  passing  the  rest  of  me  days  with  you 
or  I  11  drownd  meself— in  drink."  He  sat  down  on 


220  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

the  car-step,  and  saw  that  the  girl's  eyes  were  turned 
away  and  her  color  had  come.  As  it  subsided  rather 
quickly,  and  she  was  about  to  speak,  Clarence  said 
sensitively  : 

"  Me  name  's  Dennis  Fogarty  j  and  he  never  told  a 
lie  in  his  life." 

"I  was  n't  thinking  that,"  said  the  girl,  guiltily. 
"I  reckon  it's  only  mean  folks  that  suspect  every- 
body  else.  I  was  thinking  what  a  long  time  you  must 
have  been  looking  me  over,  in  that  car."  She  turned 
away.  The  smile  on  her  face  ended  in  a  rich  giggle. 
"  You  ain't  very  big,  are  you  ? "  she  said. 

"  When  you  get  all  the  bad  out  of  a  man,"  said  the 
Fogarty,  "  he  ain't  ever  much  bigger  than  me.  Look 
at  Napoleon." 

"  I  hope  it  ain't  that  way  with  a  girl,"  she  said. 

"  Sure  not,"  said  Clarence,  casting  back  along  the 
rails  as  if  through  an  empty  past.  "  There  ain't  any 
bad  in  a  girl,  to  begin  with.  I  never  seen  one  big 
enough  to  suit  me  till  this  morning  before  sunrise; 
but  it  don't  do  much  good  to  say  so." 

He  might  have  caught  the  answer  of  a  swift  glance 
and  a  smile.  There  was  a  freshness  about  the  morn 
ing  such  as  comes  in  few  parts  of  the  world.  There 
was  a  vigor  in  the  air  that  challenged  the  heart  to 
bounding.  The  girl's  feet  swung  in  her  stirrups  while 
she  searched  in  her  pocket-book. 

"  That  7s  my  name,"  she  said,  with  some  embarrass 
ment,  handing  down  her  card.  It  was  a  thin,  trans 
parent  piece  of  blue  celluloid,  on  which  was  gilded, 
"  Miss  Missouri  Pike." 

"  The  finest  name  I  ever  seen  from  here  to  Yoko- 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIELS         221 

hama,"  said  the  pupil  of  Lannigan,  with  rising  con 
fidence,  returning  the  card. 

"And  you  like  this  place  so  much  that  you  just 
want  to  stay  here  and  let  the  train  go  on  without 
you  ?  "  said  Missouri,  with  a  frowning  smile. 

''Would  me  words  mean  anything  else?"  said 
Clarence,  with  no  heed  to  the  truth  he  spoke. 

"  Can  you  ride  a  horse,  Mr.  Fogarty  ? "  said  the  girl, 
promptly,  with  busy  imagination. 

"  Ask  any  one,"  said  Clarence,  hoping  that  some  of 
his  critics  within  the  car  had  wakened  and  heard  him. 
"  I  can  ride  him  upside  down,  if  ye  like,  like  a  fly  on 
his  belly.  I  mind  once  I  was  chased  down  a  precipice 
by  some  wild  Injuns—" 

She  had  dismounted.  A  large  hand  proffered  him 
the  bridle,  and  while  he  wondered  at  the  sudden 
smallness  of  the  pony,  a  figure  loomed  above  him 
which  said : 

"  You  ride,  and  I  '11  walk." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Clarence,  his  face  thrown  frankly 
back  ;  "  but,  you  see,  then  I  'd  be  missing  my  train." 

Her  transformation  made  him  start. 

"You  ain't  honest !  "  she  said,  so  close  that  the  ris 
ing  sun  was  dark.  "  You  don't  mean  what  you  said  ; 
and  you  was  trying  to  make  a  fool  of  me,  you  little 
dwarf !  " 

"What,  me— Mr.  Fogarty?"  said  Clarence,  not 
without  anxiety.  "  It  was  only  I  wanted  me  kit  from 
the  baggage-car ;  and  you  talk  to  me  like  that !  " 

"Well,  I  thought  you  was  taking  me  out  for  a 
walk,"  said  Missouri;  "and  that  's  what  I  would  n't 
stand." 


222  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Clarence.  "Who  M  blame 
you  ? " 

"If  any  one  tried  false  pretenses  with,  me,  I 
would  n't  need  any  brother,"  she  said. 

"  No  ;  you  send  him  to  me,"  said  Clarence.  "  I  '11 
part  his  hair  for  him." 

"There  would  n't  be  enough  left,"  said  the  girl, 
darkly.  Then  she  caught  herself,  and  was  sorry,  and 
turned  it  off  in  playfulness.  "Well,  7f  you  ain't 
afraid  of  him,  you  ride  the  pony  up  to  the  baggage- 
car  ;  for  they  '11  be  going  soon." 

To  Clarence  this  suggested  a  neat  and  safe  way  by 
which  their  interview  could  be  ended.  He  climbed 
up,  and  sat  with  the  stirrups  dangling  below  his  toes. 

"You  '11  need  the  stirrups  if  the  engine  blows  off," 
said  Missouri.  "  After  me  on  his  back,  he  might  for 
get  you  was  there." 

"Have  no  anxiety,"  said  Clarence.  "He  '11  think 
he  's  a  stuffed  ostrich  if  he  gets  gay  with  Fogarty. 
Walk  along,  me  boy !  " 

Missouri  moved  away  for  a  better  view.  O'Shay 
arranged  himself  after  the  manner  of  some  equestrian 
statues.  He  wished  for  his  cap  and  blouse,  and  that 
some  one  could  admire  him  from  the  sleepers. 
"  'T  was  the  system  done  it,"  he  chuckled,  a  hand  on 
his  knee  and  another  on  his  hip.  "And  me  not  turn 
ing  a  hair !  " 

"Is  that  one  of  those  blue-jackets?"  said  the  en 
gineer.  He  thrilled  the  far  hills  with  a  warning  from 
the  siren.  "No,"  said  the  fireman;  "it  's  some  one 
who  thinks  he  can  break  in  a  colt." 

The   Fogarty   had   crumpled   in    the   middle.      A 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         223 

gasping,  impossible  scarlet  sun  went  pounding  on 
'.  he  mountain-tops ;  a  girl  called  out  with  a  locomo- 
ive's  voice;  the  level  plain  stood  up  and  embraced 
aim.  He  extracted  his  face  from  the  sand  and  the 
sand  from  his  face,  and  eagerly  ran  westward. 

"  Where  you  going?"  called  Missouri. 

"  To  me  train,"  cried  Clarence. 

"  Well,  it  ain't  that  way,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
north  5  "  and  it  's  gone." 

It  was  growing  small,  bearing  away  his  sixty-nine 
comrades  and  the  lieutenant.  Clarence  sat  down, 
speaking  half  sea-talk  and  half  sand. 

"  You  made  me  miss  me  train,"  he  said. 

"  But  what  did  you  want  it  so  bad  for?"  said  Mis 
souri,  gathering. 

"Why,  to  get  aboard  of  it.  What  else  would  I 
want  it  for— to  play  a  tune  on  ? "  said  Clarence. 

She  drowned  his  voice  for  him  by  a  grasp  of 
his  ears. 

"You  was  tying  to  me,"  she  said  between  her  teeth, 
while  he  rose,  lest  his  ears  should  leave  him.  "  You 
wanted  to  jump  on  that  train  and  blow  kisses  at  me. 
You  pick  a  girl  of  your  size,  you  little  red  frog! 
What  can  you  say  for  yourself  ? " 

Clarence  stood  suspended  on  his  tiptoes.  There 
was  only  one  way  to  fly  her  glittering  scrutiny. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  're  telling  me,"  he  shouted, 
with  shut  eyes,  "for  I  can't  hear  through  me  nose. 
But  it  was  not  so  much  the  baggage,  of  course  •  but 
only  I  wanted  to  say  good-by  to  me  friends— friends  of 
a  lifetime,"  he  said  compassionately,  now  that  she  let 
him  down  to  his  heels,  "and  they  '11  never  see  me  again." 


224  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

"Is  that  honest?"  said  the  girl,  with  a  painful 
frown.  "  Can't  you  tell  the  truth  1 "  she  urged. 

"  What  else  would  it  be  ? »  said  the  Fogarty.  "  Did 
ye  think  I  was  speaking  a  piece  ? " 

"Well,  I  wish  I  did  n't  have  such  a  temper,"  said 
the  girl,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  want  to  be  a  lady. 
All  I  come  down  here  for  is  to  have  a  look  at  one, 
and  see  how  she  acts.  I  >d  treat  every  one  just  right 
if  I  could.  You  going  to  lay  it  up  against  me  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Sure  not,"  said  Clarence.  "  When  does  the  next 
train  go  ? " 

"Why?"  said  the  girl,  with  hard  restraint. 

"  Only  to  send  a  last  word  to  me  poor  old  mother," 
said  Clarence,  quickly. 

"Of  course,"  said  Missouri.  "I  expected  it  was 
something  like  that.  I  '11  bring  down  your  letter 
myself  in  the  morning,  while  you  're  asleep.  Here 
you  go !  " 

She  half  lifted  him  into  the  saddle  again.  She 
pulled  the  bridle  over  the  pony's  head,  and  started, 
leading  them  toward  the  foot-hills.  Clarence  looked 
out  over  the  great  valley.  He  could  not  see  another 
human  being,  nor  even  a  fence.  He  was  a  warrior 
without  a  sword. 

"Say,  where  are  we  going  now?"  he  asked. 

The  girl's  face  was  illumined  from  a  deep  new  fire. 

"  We  're  going  to  find  father,"  she  said. 

A  FADED  house,  some  sheds  rough-shingled,  and  a 
plot  of  shaggy  grass  were  three  boundaries  of  a  space 
where  trotting  pigs  and  adolescent  chicks  were  at 


THE  LANNIGAN   SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         225 

school  about  a  dusty  wagon.  On  the  uphill  side  there 
were  smoky  digger-pines  and  some  tangled  shrubs  and 
buckeyes  j  on  the  downhill  side  were  broad  oaks,  and 
bare  brown  meadows  drunk  dry  by  the  sun ;  and  in 
the  picture's  center  stood  Missouri's  father,  in  blue 
overalls  and  bare  feet.  He  was  making  as  visible  as 
he  thought  wise  the  suppression  of  a  smile. 

"Well,  you  did,  did  n't  you?"  he  said  closely,  as 
Missouri  led  the  whitened  pony  and  its  burden  out 
from  the  pines  to  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  The 
starved  Fogarty  sat  like  wax  in  the  hands  of  Fate. 

"  Did  what  ? "  said  Missouri. 

"  Oh,  what  you  said  you  'd  do  some  day/'  sang  her 
father,  lifting  a  young  pig  in  his  arms.  He  gave  a 
second  comprehensive  look  at  Clarence.  "Ain't 
much  of  it,  is  there  ? "  he  said. 

"Ain't  much  of  who?"  said  Missouri,  barring  his 
way. 

Her  father's  little  finger  pointed,  as  if  by  accident, 
at  the  sailor  on  horseback,  while  his  thumb  pointed 
at  the  pig. 

"  Why,  of  this  here,"  he  said,  with  marked  inno 
cence.  "  It 's  a  runt,  so  far  as  I  can  see." 

The  corner  of  the  house  cut  off  the  return  of  his 
tethered  smile  and  his  glance  at  the  pony.  All  the 
pigs  and  all  the  fowls  had  disappeared  at  the  sight  of 
Missouri,  and  the  pony  hurried  off  with  a  loud  slap 
on  his  quarter.  Missouri  spoke  cheerfully  of  the 
rocking-chair  on  the  porch  and  of  the  smell  of  good 
fried  ham.  Clarence  heard  the  house  begin  to  tremble 
with  her  rapid  steps.  He  sat  on  a  soap-box  and 
lighted  his  pipe,  which  for  hours  had  never  grown  cold 

15 


226  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

in  his  pocket.  But  the  taste  of  it  made  him  ill.  Cau 
tiously  the  pigs  and  chickens  brought  back  the  former 
aspect  of  the  place,  while  the  shadow  of  the  house 
climbed  up  the  stalks  of  the  opposite  sunflowers.  At 
length  Missouri's  father  gravely  came  and  pulled  up 
a  chopping-block,  and  gave  Clarence  a  decent  chance 
to  speak. 

"Well,"  said  Pike,  after  a  reasonable  time,  "of 
course  her  mother  left  her  the  house  j  but  there  won't 
be  quite  so  much  live  stock,  for  half  of  that  belongs 
to  me." 

Clarence  stared  at  the  blank  sunflowers. 

"Well,"  said  her  father,  stroking  his  goatee,  "I 
shall  knock  together  some  kind  of  a  sentry-box  to  live 
in— big  enough  to  make  a  casket  when  it  >s  laid  on  its 
side.  I  will  say  this  for  her,"  he  continued :  "  as  to 
work,  she  '11  set  a  pace  to  sink  the  cheeks  of  a  China 
man  j  and  if  you  took  sick,  she  'd  pull  down  a  moun 
tain  to  get  you  the  right  box  of  pills.  But,  likewise, 
when  she  blows  up  gusty,  she  'd  as  lief  bat  your  head 
off  with  a  fence-rail  as  eat  an  apple ;  and  I  don't  know 
what  good  it  would  do  you  to  have  her  yelling  over 
your  remains  the  next  minute." 

"Would  a  train  stop  at  that  water-tank  to-night?" 
said  Clarence. 

"  Which  way  ? "  said  her  father. 

"  Any  way,"  said  Clarence. 

"You  mean  so  as  to  get  to  a  preacher,  I  suppose. 
But  she  '11  ride  you  over  to  Hopeful  Rise,"  said  Pike, 
pointing  farther  toward  the  wilderness.  Clarence  felt 
an  eye  crawling  down  his  profile,  and  then  down  over 
his  short  limbs  to  where  it  lingered  on  an  itching  toe  j 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         227 

and  a  rooster  stopped,  with  a  leg  poised  in  the  air, 
and  tried  one  eye  on  Clarence,  and  then  the  other, 
then  looked  inquiringly  at  Missouri's  father. 

"Well,"  said  Pike,  "even  a  hog  can  teach  some 
thing.  I  've  learned  to  look  pleasant  and  take  what 
ever  the  Lord  provides.  And  I  reckon,"  he  explained 
to  the  rooster,  "that  's  what  it  comes  to  with  Mis 
souri." 

The  rooster  ran  off,  not  because  he  was  satisfied, 
but  because  Missouri,  with  her  hair  new  coiled,  had 
appeared  at  the  door.  Her  gray  divided  skirts  had 
given  way  to  a  spreading  print  of  pink  and  white,  all 
loudly  starched.  A  short  pink  sash  hung  from  her 
untrammeled  waist,  and  her  skin  shone  brown  to  the 
elbow,  and  white  to  where  the  biceps  rose  in  little 
mounds  through  the  openwork  of  her  sleeve.  At  her 
throat  was  a  large  medallion  of  an  old  man  with  a 
long  beard,  and  a  gold  chain  hung  from  her  shoulders 
to  a  pair  of  thick-lensed  eye-glasses  dangling  at  her 
breast.  There  was  a  shyness  about  her. 

"Well,  I  reckon  you  've  about  emptied  mother's 
trunk,"  said  her  father.  "What  you  got  her  gold 
eye-glasses  for?"  he  asked,  unmindful  of  her  mute 
and  angry  protest.  "  They  don't  magnify,"  he  added, 
with  a  glance  at  the  little  man  on  the  soap-box. 
"  What,"  he  exclaimed,  peering  indoors  at  the  supper- 
table,  "  all  the  old  silver-plated  silver !  And  ham  and 
eggs  !  Well,  if  this  don't  bring  back  mother's  funeral !  " 

"Will  you  sit  there?"  said  Missouri  to  Clarence, 
with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"  Napkins  !  "  cried  her  father.  "  Why,  I  don't  re 
member  napkins  after  mother's  fimeral.  Well,  sir," 


228  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

he  said,  seeking  to  pass  a  twinkle  to  Clarence's  eye, 
"if  I  was  addicted  to  fits,  I  reckon  this  would  bring 
one  on ! " 

Clarence  heard  Missouri's  chair  kicked  back  against 
the  wall  j  and  in  a  moment  he  knew  that  a  plate  was 
extended  to  her  father,  and  that  a  dripping  carving- 
knife  was  pointing  toward  the  door.  The  father  and 
daughter  looked  at  each  other,  and  then  at  Clarence, 
and  then  at  each  other.  Clarence's  eyes  ran  around 
the  edges  of  his  plate  like  anxious  beetles;  but  it 
ended  in  her  father's  careless  whistle  on  the  porch. 

By  and  by,  when  the  ham  was  gone,  and  Clarence's 
mind  was  traveling  the  long  trail  back  to  the  railroad, 
and  he  was  able  to  take  hope  from  the  growing  dusk, 
Missouri  began : 

"I  noticed  on  the  way  up  that  you  're  like  me. 
You  let  out  what  you  Ve  got  to  say ;  then  you  don't 
repeat  it.  I  'm  going  to  be  just  as  open-minded  with 
you  as  you  was  with  me  this  morning.  I  've  come  to 
a  conclusion.  I  don't  think,  Mr.  Fogarty,  that  it  pays 
to  go  too  fast— on  what  can't  be  undone." 

"  Sure  it  don't,"  said  Clarence. 

"And  people  would  save  a  life  of  trouble  some 
times,"  she  said  keenly,  "if  they  would  look  before 
they  leap." 

"  Sure  !  "  said  Clarence. 

"Now,  I  don't  want  to  make  you  uncomfortable, 
Mr.  Fogarty,"  she  began  gravely. 

"Not  a  bit !  "  said  Clarence ;  and  it  was  pathetic  to 
her  how  little  he  knew  what  was  coming. 

"But  it  comes  to  this:  I  ain't  going  to  say  yet 
whether  I  '11  marry  you  or  not." 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         229 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right,"  said  Clarence.  "  Of  course 
it  would  n't  be  like  buying  a  dog,  would  it  f " 

"It  ain't  like  anything  else  in  the  world,"  said  Mis 
souri.  "It  's  enough  to  make  you  shudder.  It  's 
enough  to  make  you  lie  awake  all  night.  And  so  I  'm 
going  to  send  you  off  now,"  she  said  firmly,  standing 
up,  "and—" 

"  I  see,"  said  Clarence,  and  everything  else  seemed 
to  rise  along  with  his  tones.  With  the  wagon  he  felt 
that  he  could  be  safe  at  a  telegraph-office  by  midnight. 
"  I  suppose  your  father—"  he  began. 

"  I  'm  going  to  send  you  off  to  have  a  smoke  with 
him,"  said  Missouri.  "He  '11  look  after  you.  And 
whether  I  '11  marry  you  or  not  I  sha'ii't  tell  you  till 
morning." 

She  saw  in  his  face  what  made  her  add,  with  a  touch 
on  his  shoulder :  "  I  know  it 's  hard  on  you.  Maybe 
it  is  on  me.  But  morning  will  come,  somehow.  You 
would  n't  like  me  much  if  I  was  n't  as  square  as  you  ? " 

And  she  sighed  and  hurried  off ;  but  the  sigh  was 
not  unhappy.  Clarence's  feet  dragged  the  floor. 
Then,  with  an  impulse,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
he  peeped  out  toward  the  pines  and  the  trail.  But 
there,  cross-kneed  on  the  wagon-seat,  beside  an  empty 
plate,  her  father  smoked  his  pipe.  Until  they  slept 
there  was  nothing  for  Clarence  to  do  but  wait. 

"  Wagon  belongs  to  me,"  said  her  father.  "  I  can't 
be  touched  up  here,  by  law.  Was  you  ever  married 
before?  Well,  it  lasts  a  long  time  when  you  do/'  he 
said  retrospectively,  and  not  in  the  voice  of  wedding- 
bells.  "It  's  generally  brought  on  by  curiosity. 
Well,  sir,  that  dent  in  the  shed,  there,  is  where  she 


230  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

threw  a  wagon-wheel  at  a  peddler  that  tried  to  talk 
her  into  a  pair  of  stays." 

"  A  lonely  place  like  this  is  a  good  one  to  sleep  in, 
I  suppose  ?  "  said  Clarence,  pursuing  his  thoughts. 

Her  father's  glance  was  not  without  suspicion.  "  I 
reckon  you  ain't  seen  the  bulldog,"  he  answered. 
"No;  we  don't  ever  feel  nervous  about  losing  the 
horses.  I  sleep  in  the  room  next  to  you,  and  I  '11  tie 
the  old  dog  under  your  window  j  so  you  need  n't 
worry,  either." 

"Sure,"  said  Clarence,  warmly,  "the  poor  dog 
need  n't  sit  np  all  night  for  me.  Lock  him  up  in  his 
box  and  let  him  enjoy  himself." 

But  after  Clarence  had  borrowed  some  tobacco  and 
had  smoked  so  long  in  the  closed  chamber  that  the 
candle-end  was  like  a  beacon  in  a  fog,  and  the  adver 
tising  chromos  floated  like  misty  dreams  against  the 
walls,  and  finally  a  snore  had  arisen  from  beyond  the 
door,  he  swung  the  window  softly  on  its  hinge  and 
looked  down  into  the  bitter  face  of  the  bulldog.  The 
pines  stood  np  still  and  silent  in  the  starlight.  Clar 
ence  decided  that  he  could  leap  beyond  the  length  of 
the  dog's  chain ;  then  to  make  the  best  of  it  through 
the  unknown  hills.  The  dog  sat  purposefully  ponder 
ing  the  geometry  of  this  proposition,  while  Clarence 
tried  to  make  a  smile  carry  confidence  through  dark 
ness,  and  drew  himself  erect  upon  the  sill.  Then 
they  both  observed  that  Missouri  had  passed  the 
corner,  and  was  pacing  up  and  down,  looking  at  the 
ground.  As  Clarence  hastened  to  get  back,  she 
seemed  to  see  him,  and  he  dropped  astride  the  sill, 
and  the  do<?  sniffed  at  a  shoe  that  wished  to  be  mo- 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         231 

tionless  yet  nonchalant.  Now  she  paced  back  and 
forth  in  front  of  them,  so  magnified  in  the  mountain 
gloom  that  Clarence  seemed  shrunk  to  a  spider.  Her 
path  kept  coming  nearer,  and  the  dog  lay  down. 

"  What  's  stopping  me/7  she  said  very  deeply,  "  is 
whether  it  's  right  for  you.  You  've  been  all  over, 
and  you  7ve  got  refined  by  foreign  travel.  But  I  was 
so  ashamed  of  my  size  that  I  never  even  went  to 
school,  though  I  can  read  well  enough ;  and  I  want 
to  say  we  did  have  napkins  at  the  time  mother  died. 
Bat  if  we  should  ever  go  away  from  here,  you  might 
be  ashamed  of  me  being  so  big,  too." 

"Sure  not,"  said  Clarence.  "I  've  a  mind  to  go 
down  this  night  and  buy  you  a  Chinee  shawl,"  he 
suggested. 

"  I  don't  want  any  presents  j  you  7d  get  lost  in  the 
dark— it 's  twenty  miles.  It  ain't  a  time  when  pres 
ents  can  say  what  you  feel.  Though  I  know  all  your 
friends  would  be  better  dressed  than  me.  When  I 
see  those  fine  ladies  on  the  evening  train  sometimes, 
with  their  white  hands,  and  their  hair  done  up  like 
fancy  pie-crust,  it  makes  me  sick.  They  look  as  slick 
as  fall  deer ;  and  I  'm  so  big  and  hard-handed  that  it 
makes  me  cry." 

"  I  M  get  down  and  give  comfort  to  ye,"  said  Clar 
ence,  with  feeling;  "but  if  that  dog  would  eat  me 
leg,  it  might  hurt  your  father's  sleep." 

"You  'd  better  stay  there,  then,"  said  Missouri. 
"  I  don't  always  feel  so  bad.  They  're  slick,  but  they 
don't  look  so  they  could  run  a  mile  with  a  pint  of 
water.  And  that 's  where  I  get  my  comfort.  Some 
times  I  just  want  to  let  down  my  hair,  and  take  a 


232  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

pitchfork  for  a  spear,  and  gallop  and  lift  that  pony 
right  over  the  train,  to  make  'em  stare.  And  then, 
there  was  never  any  horse  made  that  was  too  ambi 
tious  for  me.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  that  girl  Joan  of 
Arc  ? " 

"No,"  said  Clarence ;  "I  never  stopped  off  in  these 
parts  before." 

"  Well,  it  was  n't  here ;  but  never  mind,"  said  Mis 
souri.  "It  is  n't  that,  anyway,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause.  "  It 's  whether  it 's  right  for  you.  You  see, 
I  'm  only  eighteen.  I  guess  I  'm  a  bit  coltish.  I 
don't  know,  but  I  'm  a  little  afraid  it 's  like  a  doll.  I 
mean,  if  I  wanted  a  doll  and  I  found  one  it  would  n't 
make  much  difference  what  doll  it  was ;  I  'd  mother 
it  just  the  same,  just  because  I  wanted  it  so  bad." 

"Well,  did  you  want  a  doll,  then?"  said  Clarence, 
encouragingly,  thinking  of  one  that  complained  when 
pushed  in  the  chest. 

"  That 's  it ;  maybe  I  do,"  said  the  girl,  with  diffi 
culty.  "  Maybe  my  soul 's  just  spilling  over  with  want 
of  something  more  to  care  for  than  that  dog;  and 
maybe  if  any  man  that  looked  clean  and  honest  had 
come  to  me  and  said  just  those  things  you  did,  at  just 
that  time,  why— how  do  I  know  but  I  'd  take  pity  on 
him  just  like  I  'd  found  a  doll  ?  I  wish  I  knew  !  Tell 
me  honest  what  you  think,  Mr.  Fogarty." 

This  was  too  far  in  the  back  of  Lannigan's  book  for 
Clarence ;  and  he  kept  still,  astride  of  his  window-sill. 

"  Maybe  we  ought  to  say  good-by,"  she  said  in  a 
lower  voice.  i  l  Maybe  we  ought  to  end  it  here  and  now. " 

"  Well,  if  you  say  so,"  said  Clarence,  throwing  his 
leg  over  the  sill,  "  and  you  '11  ask  away  the  dog." 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         233 

"  I  don't  say  so,"  said  Missouri.  "  I  've  heard  how 
it  sounds,  and  it  don't  sound  true.  But  it  all  scares 
me  ;  it  makes  me  shudder — like  walking  on  a  roof- 
tree—like  I  wanted  tight  hold  of  a  hand  to  make  me 
feel  I  was  right." 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her  and  leaned  in  lonely 
fashion  against  the  house. 

"Like  we  was  both  wishing  the  same  thing  at  the 
same  time,  and  could  n't  help  what  happened.  I  wish 
I  did  n't  have  to  think  about  it;  the  more  I  think, 
the  dizzier  it  is.  I  reckon  some  men  would  try  not 
to  let  me— not  to  give  me  time,"  said  the  girl,  in  the 
hands  of  Fate;  "  but  I  guess  you  're  right.  I— I—" 
She  hesitated,  and  then  went  on  gravely :  "  There  's 
one  thing,  anyway,  that  I  ought  to  have  told  you  be 
fore,  because  you  might  come  across  him  sometime. 
There  was  another  man  once ;  and  I  want  you  to  have 
your  say  right  now." 

She  turned  and  tried  to  see  the  effect  of  this,  and 
was  grateful  for  his  silent  waiting. 

"  He  was  bigger  than  me,  even,"  she  went  on.  "  He 
had  a  black  mustache  and  big  white  teeth,  and  he 
talked  all  the  time.  I  reckon  he  turned  my  head.  I 
want  you  to  know  that  I  let  him  kiss  me.  He  thought 
he  stole  it,  but  he  did  n't,"  she  said  firmly ;  "  I  let  him." 

She  paused ;  but  Clarence  would  risk  no  comment 
yet. 

"  Then  the  next  minute  I  hated  him,"  she  said,  be 
tween  her  teeth.  "It  makes  me  almost  cry,  how  I 
hated  him.  I  knocked  in  some  of  his  teeth,  I  guess. 
He  went  away  before  I  was  up  the  next  morning.  I 
hope  he  's  dead  somewhere." 


234  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

She  waited  a  long  time,  with  the  judgment  hanging 
over  her. 

"You  ain't  going  to  lay  that  up  against  me?"  she 
said  at  last.  "  I  've  known  girls  that  would  n't  have 
told.  It  was  only  once." 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right,"  said  Clarence,  safely. 

"  And  you  11  never  speak  of  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Never  once,"  said  Clarence. 

Missouri  sighed. 

"  He  was  n't  like  you,"  she  smiled.  She  had  come 
nearer  to  him  j  her  hand  was  on  the  sill.  "  No,"  she 
said,  with  a  little  laugh,  after  a  moment,  her  shoulder 
grazing  his ;  "  I  guess  you  're  bashful,  after  all." 

Clarence  gripped  the  sill.  He  imagined  her  hurry 
ing  him  off  on  the  pony  in  the  dark  j  he  saw  himself, 
by  the  light  of  dawn,  at  a  parson's  door ;  he  saw  him 
self  standing  before  the  Book,  a  vulgar  frog  beside  a 
robust  lily.  He  gasped. 

"  You  said  I  was  the  finest  you  ever  saw,"  she  cried, 
holding  him  by  the  shoulder.  "You  said  you  'd 
rather  be  with  me  than  any  one.  You  can't  know 
how  I  was  wishing  and  wishing  for  just  that.  It  was 
sweet— oh,  it  was  sweet,  Dennis  !  " 

She  had  lifted  him  from  the  sill.  She  had  kissed 
him  hard  on  his  bristly  jowl,  and  set  him  down  on  the 
ground.  Then  she  had  fled.  He  heard  the  kitchen 
door  shut  softly  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  and 
the  key  turn.  He  looked  at  Missouri's  bulldog,  and 
the  dog  looked  curiously  at  him  for  a  moment.  But 
Missouri  had  set  the  symbol  on  this  man ;  the  dog 
wagged  its  tail.  Clarence  took  off  his  shoes.  He 
put  them  on  again  in  the  shade  of  the  pines,  and  ran 
fast  through  the  darkness. 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         235 

WHEN  the  sun  was  rising  past  the  mountain-tops 
again,  a  calm-eyed  man  with  a  shot-gun  rode  over  one 
of  the  billows  of  the  road  where  the  foot-hills  began 
to  flatten  toward  the  valley.  He  saw  a  head  draw 
back  into  a  clump  of  bashes,  and  he  jogged  his 
horse  to  where  the  head  greeted  him  with  a  doubtful 
grin. 

"You  got  business  in  these  parts?7'  said  he  of  the 
shot-gun. 

"  I  was  looking  for  a  telegraph-office/'  said  the  head. 

"Expect  to  find  one  in  that  poison-oak?"  said  the 
other.  "  What  are  you  doing  there  ? " 

"  I  did  n't  know  it  was  poison-oak/'  said  the  head. 
"  It  was  only  that  some  one  is  looking  for  me,  I  think, 
and  I  did  n't  want  to  be  seen.  If  you  see  any  one  that 
looks  like  looking  for  me,  I  'd  be  obliged  if  you  would 
stop  'em  and  say  you  never  seen  me." 

"  What 's  your  name  ? "  said  the  other. 

"  Clarence  O'Shay,"  said  the  head. 

"Have  you  got  anything  to  prove  it?" 

"  Sure,"  said  Clarence.  "  Here  's  me  name  carved 
on  me  knife -handle.  And  if  you  don't  believe  that, 
I  've  a  mole  on  me  chin  and  a  fouled  anchor  tattooed 
on  me  left  arm." 

The  man  of  the  gun-shot  studied  him. 

"  So  you  're  wanted  somewhere  ? "  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  Clarence,  scratching  his  chin,  "that 's 
the  impression  I  feel  behind  me." 

"Well,  I  'm  the  sheriff  of  this  county,"  said  the 
other.  "You  get  out  on  the  road." 

"  What  '11 1  do  that  for  ? "  said  Clarence,  bristling  up. 

"  Because  you  'd  rather  do  it  than  get  a  shirtful  of 
buckshot,"  said  the  sheriff. 


1'36  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Clarence  looked  into  the  barrel  of  the  gun. 

"  They  can  have  the  law  on  me  for  what  I  done  ? " 
he  said,  with  a  terrible  frown. 

"You  ought  to  have  looked  that  up  before  you 
started  in,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  Step  along  south." 

At  the  top  of  one  of  the  billows,  Clarence  stopped 
and  looked  at  the  sheriff.  A  girl  on  a  pony,  with  her 
back  to  them,  had  just  left  a  trail  for  the  road. 

"'T  would  be  a  very  small  favor  if  I  stepped  into 
that  bush  till  this  lady  has  gone,"  said  Clarence,  ap- 
pealingly.  But  the  girl  looked  back ;  and  in  a  mo 
ment,  pale  and  set,  with  a  rawhide  quirt  in  her  hand, 
she  halted  before  them,  and  looked  never  at  Clarence, 
but  with  heavy  lids  at  the  sheriff. 

"Do  you  know  this  man,  Miss  Pike?"  said  the 
sheriff.  "  Why  does  n't  he  want  you  to  see  him  ? " 

Missouri  winced,  and  her  white  face  avoided  the 
sheriff's  glance. 

"  I  guess  that  ain't  anything  to  do  with  the  sheriff," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  He  can't  explain  himself.  He  says  there  's  some 
one  looking  for  him.  There  's  a  man  wanted  about 
his  size,"  said  the  sheriff,  "for  taking  what  did  n't 
belong  to  him." 

"  Did  I  take  anything  but  what  you  gave  me  ? "  said 
Clarence,  both  sullen  and  perplexed. 

A  hot  flush  ran  over  the  girl's  face  and  left  it  more 
colorless  than  before. 

"He  says  his  name  is  Clarence  O'Shay,"  said  the 
sheriff,  "'is  that  right?" 

Missouri  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

iC  For  all  I  know,"  she  said. 


THE  LANNIGAN  SYSTEM  WITH  GIRLS         237 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  you  know  about 
him  ? "  insisted  the  sheriff. 

"  He  got  left  off  the  train  yesterday.  I  took  him 
home  to  supper.  Father  let  him  sleep  in  the  house. 
This  morning,  when  I  got  up,"  she  said,  clearing  her 
throat,  "he  was  gone." 

"  You  could  swear  to  that  if  you  was  called  ? "  said 
the  sheriff. 

"  Yes,"  said  Missouri. 

The  sheriff  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  knitted 
his  brows. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "he  did  n't  quite  answer  the  de 
scription  ;  and  I  '11  take  your  word  for  his  alibi.  I  was 
going  to  say  something  about  your  being  so  generous 
to  a  stranger  like  that ;  but  I  don't  guess  I  will,  Miss 
Pike.  Good  morning.  There 's  nothing  vicious  about 
him,  is  there!" 

Missouri's  voice  came  through  curling  lips. 

"  Vicious ! "  she  said.  "  I  don't  reckon  there  's 
enough  to  him,  inside  or  out,  to  make  anything  vicious 
from." 

But  she  kept  pace  with  Clarence's  rapid  walk  when 
the  sheriff  had  galloped  off.  Clarence  left  the  road 
and  hurried  over  the  dry  grass.  The  pony  trotted  up 
and  stopped  across  his  path.  Clarence  was  sullen  ;  his 
eyes  were  on  the  quirt.  He  was  alone  with  her. 

"  You  need  n't  think  I  'm  going  to  wear  out  a  quirt 
on  you,"  she  said.  "  I  only  wanted  to  remind  you  to 
keep  to  your  part  of  the  world.  If  you  ?re  a  cook  in 
some  sailing-ship,  as  father  says,  you  can  make  a  liv 
ing  without  seeing  this  valley  again.  I  want  to  say 
good-by,  and  thank  you.  I  guess  I  know  a  fool  when 


238  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

I  look  in  the  mirror  now.  Why  did  n't  you  lay  it  on 
a  little  heavier?  1 'd  have  had  some  kind  of  respect 
for  you  if  you  had.  But  you  would  n't  be  talking  now 
to  me— it  would  have  been  father;  and  your  luck  's 
as  good  as  mine  that  you  did  n't.  But  I  guess  I  won't 
get  mad  at  a  sea-cook,"  she  said,  gripping  the  quirt, 
with  a  livid  tension  that  took  away  her  comeliness. 
"  You  go." 

After  she  thought  he  was  out  of  view  he  looked  back 
at  her,  from  where  a  growth  of  mountain-laurels 
crowned  his  head.  The  pony  was  nibbling  at  the  stub 
ble.  Missouri  was  the  one  still  figure  in  the  landscape, 
with  clasped  hands  and  an  arm  across  her  eyes. 

"BUT  your  face  is  all  wrecked,"  said  Lannigan. 
"  Your  eyes  have  the  look  of  two  lost  prunes  in  a  pud 
ding.  That  7s  no  poison-oak." 

"  That  was  when  I  got  to  Stockton,"  said  Clarence, 
"  and  still  the  taste  of  them  words  of  hers  was  ringing 
in  me  mind.  I  chose  out  a  stevedore  bigger  than  her, 
with  his  fists  larger  than  his  head.  I  pulled  his  ear 
like  rubber,  and  I  says  to  him  his  heart  was  paste,  and 
no  wings  to  his  soul ;  and  the  look  of  me  face  is  what 
he  says  to  me." 

"  But  it  done  you  good,"  said  Lannigan.  "  And  it 
does  me  good,  ye  little  baboon  !  And  I  hope  it 's  done 
her  good,  too,"  he  added  softly. 


A  YARN   OF   THE   PEA-SOUP  SEA 


A  YARN   OF  THE   PEA-SOUP  SEA 


T  's  a  terrible  wise  fact  for  the 
women  that  none  of  'em  sail  with 
the  guns,  but  a  worse  niisfortunate 
plan  for  a  sailorman  that  diwle  a 
woman  he  sees  for  the  best  two 
thirds  of  his  days.  That 's  been  my 
thinking  more  times  than  this.  The  poetry  gets  clean 
spilled  out  of  your  soul,  and  ye  don't  know  what  ?s 
gone  wrong:  't  is  the  want  of  the  soft  voice  of  a 
woman  to  come  along  and  paint  the  murder  out  of 
your  heart  with  a  smile. 

I  mind  once  when  my  three  years'  time  was  up  on 
the  China  station.  I  could  have  sailed  on  the  U.S.S. 
Valley  Forge,  with  the  flagship  band  playing  "  Hail, 
Columbia,"  and  a  hundred-foot  homeward-bound  pen 
nant  trailing  to  our  stern.  I  ought  to  have  danced  at 
the  thought  of  home.  But  I  must  have  been  fouled 
by  the  weather ;  for  while  the  fleet  was  making  trans 
fers  I  goes  as  sullen  as  a  dog-day,  and  I  give  out 
that  I  would  n't  stay  in  a  craft  where  the  first  mate 
was  a  silly  brother  to  Balaam's  ass ;  and  I  took  me 
money  without  waiting  for  me  papers. 

I  wrapped  me  chop-dollars  in  a  bandana  handker 
chief  and  dropped  aboard  of  a  flying  junk  that  was 
to  make  up  the  river  for  Shanghai.  She  carried  so 

16  241 


242  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

many  coolies  that  you  felt  like  the  second  story  of  a 
Chinatown  cellar ;  and  the  only  way  to  dodge  the  odor 
of  them  was  to  go  snoring  off  in  the  hot  moonlight — 
for  it  was  the  middle  of  June  and  the  thermometer  at 
the  mark  of  purgatory,  with  the  air  so  soggy  we 
steamed  like  a  bag  of  pudding.  In  the  middle  of  me 
dreams  I  waked  up  and  missed  me  bandana,  and, 
without  much  taking  bearings,  I  fetched  a  clip  in  the 
jaw  to  the  nearest  Chinee.  When  I  see  him  strike  the 
water  in  a  heap  I  knew  the  mistake  I  had  made ;  for 
I  had  hit  the  one  that  had  robbed  me.  The  Chinee 
was  flopping  helpless  astern  of  us,  but  the  junk  would 
not  turn  back;  for  the  old  skipper  says  that  such 
would  be  ag'in'  both  the  tide  and  the  Chinee  religion. 
And  I  see  the  thief  sink  down  to  the  bottom  sooner 
than  part  with  me  coin. 

So  I  was  beached  at  Shanghai  with  me  pockets  full 
of  fists ;  and  I  found  meself  'twixt  chores  and  charity, 
whistling  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  and  calling  meself  unfit 
to  clap  the  cymbals  in  a  baboon's  march.  I  loafed 
ag'in'  a  bale  of  silk,  sneering  at  a  Chinee  light-draft 
gunboat  that  laid  by  the  Bund,  called  the  Walking 
Chinaman,  though  she  never  stirred.  I  says  to  meself 
there  was  heathens  aboard  of  her  paid  for  not  lifting 
a  hand  except  to  their  mouths— and  me  a- wishing  to 
sell  me  soul  for  a  yard  of  sausage !  And  I  give  a  hol 
low  laugh. 

I  noticed  on  her  bridge  a  green-and-yeller  Chinee 
a-taking  me  picture  with  a  spy-glass.  By  and  by  he 
waggled  his  hand  to  me,  inside  down,— which  in  Chinee 
means,  "Come  here!'7— and  then  he  made  full  tilt 
ashore,  smirking  till  I  grinned  at  him  back.  For  me 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  243 

gizzard  so  gaped  for  chow  that  I  would  not  throw  a 
cold  eye  at  any  one  that  had  the  look  of  a  piece  of 
silver  in  his  breeches.  This  was  a  classical  Chinee 
dude ;  ye  could  have  picked  enough  off  him  with  a 
gaff  to  pay  your  feed  for  a  year.  He  said  he  was  Cap 
tain  Tin  Shai  of  the  Chinee  navy. 

"  S7pose  you  sabbee  sea  pidgin/'  he  whispers  close, 
"can  catchee  more  dollar.  Can  do?" 

"  Can  do ! "  says  I.  I  would  have  answered  the 
same  if  the  job  was  blowing  bubbles  with  a  bagpipe. 

"Allee  time  one  day  thirteen  dollar,'7  says  he, 
"and  chow." 

"Chow?"  says  I,  cocking  me  ears.  Me  mouth  was 
watering.;  for  the  perfume  of  leeks  played  around  him 
like  St.  Elmo's  fire  at  a  masthead.  So  I  said  I  would 
first  sample  the  chow  j  and  he  grinned,  for  he  thought 
he  had  bought  me  from  Uncle  Sam. 

He  had  but  to  gurgle  three  words  in  the  ear  of  his 
private  boy,  when  in  five  minutes  we  sat  disputing  the 
body  of  a  pheasant,  with  trimmings  to  tickle  an 
emperor.  I  jumped  at  it  with  me  knife,  destroying 
as  much  as  I  could  of  it  sitting  down,  then  as  much 
as  I  could  standing  up,  while  the  Chinee  kept  squirt 
ing  me  tumbler  with  siphon  and  whisky.  I  was  all 
but  flustered  at  such  luck ;  but  the  Chinee  never  turned 
a  hair.  He  set  fingering  his  rings  and  soaking  me  in 
through  his  goggles,  that  were  framed  in  tortoise-shell ; 
and  I  see  he  was  shaven  as  clean  as  squash  on  a  vine, 
and  so  smug  that  ye  would  n't  believe  he  would  steal 
the  end  of  a  rope.  He  seemed  to  be  glad  that  I  held 
such  a  stowage  of  liquor  without  misspelling  me 
words,  for  he  nodded  and  says  I  was  "plenty  good 


244  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

man  n ;  and  when  he  shoved  me  a  handful  of  High-Life 
cigars  I  shook  hands  with  meself  beneath  the  table. 

"  What  's  me  pidgin  ? "  says  I,  softly,  for  fear  I  should 
wake  meself  from  a  dream. 

11  Some  day/'  said  Tin  Shai,  "  China  Empelor  come 
tellee  my :  i  Ship  makee  walkee  ! '  So  fashion  Portegee 
engine-man  go  down-side,  lightee  match,  makee  steam, 
makee  choo-choo,  chop-chop  down  river.  Your 
belong  top-side:  pullee  stling,  talkee  sea  pidgin, 
makee  swear,  makee  ship  walkee  ploper.  Allee  time 
no  makee  smash.  S'pose  allee  time  makee  plenty  good 
walkee,  bime-by  catchee  more  dollar.  Can  do  ? " 

"  Can  do  !  "  says  I ;  and  he  pays  me  a  week's  wages 
on  the  spot. 

This  craft  was  a  bald-sided  block  of  wood,  with  a 
clump  of  bare  poles  and  lines  like  a  Japanee  bath-tub. 
Some  greenhorns  would  have  turned  her  bottom  side 
up,  turpentining  the  crew  till  they  learned  the  meaning 
of  work,  and  civilizing  her  out  with  chlorid  of  lime. 
But  I  've  spent  too  long  in  them  climates  to  waste 
disinfection  on  manners  ten  thousand  years  old.  See 
ing  that  the  robber  that  built  her  by  contract  had 
given  her  fixed  port  lights  all  through,  I  stove  a  hole 
through  the  glass  of  a  room  I  dug  out  for  meself,  and 
called  it  a  day's  work.  Then  I  went  into  a  snake-sleep 
to  cheat  the  heat  of  noon.  For  in  these  Chinee  sum 
mers  the  heat  of  your  blood  leaps  two  degrees  for 
every  time  ye  curse. 

"  Ye  're  a  high  cock  in  the  Pigtail  Marine  !  "  says 
I  to  meself,  when  I  waked  and  chuckled  at  me  job  of 
killing  the  Emperor's  time.  "  If  but  Adam  and  Eve 
was  alive  to  see  this  day ! "  I  says,  lighting  me  cigar 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  245 

as  if  I  had  the  world  in  chancery ;  "  for  ye  're  mate 
of  the  coffer-dam  Walking  Chinaman  !  n 

The  Portegee  engineer  was  named  Gargonza,  and 
he  was  a  bit  short  at  me  till  he  twigged  how  I  was 
made.  Then  he  cracked  a  bottle  of  beer,  which  I 
drank  with  joy  and  took  a  dislike  to  him ;  for  now  and 
then  he  would  watch  the  effect  of  his  words  as  bald 
as  ye  scan  a  target. 

"  Me— you,"  he  said,  with  a  wave,  "  of  this  ship  there 
is  no  human  being  but  us.  Then  we  swear  the  good 
friend-eh?" 

The  Walking  Chinaman,  he  says,  was  troubled  with 
two  captains,  Tin  Shai  and  Mu  Kow.  Tin  Shai  was 
only  somebody's  son ;  but  Mu  Kow  had  worked  up  from 
Secret  Remover  of  Christians  in  a  province  back  by 
Tibet.  At  first  Tin  Shai  was  captain  alone ;  and  a 
Britisher  had  the  job  of  adviser  and  drilling  the  crew. 
But  one  day  the  Britisher  come  aboard  and  observes 
Tin  Shai  on  the  knee  of  the  sentry,  being  spanked 
with  his  own  sword  for  cheating  at  fan- tan ;  and  the 
Britisher  remarks  that  such  scenes  would  not  occur 
in  the  service  of  the  Queen.  The  government  then 
gives  the  Britisher  his  walking  papers  and  took  all 
the  ammunition  and  side-arms  away  from  the  ship ; 
and  they  appointed  Mu  Kow  as  twin-captain,  believing, 
by  Chinee  arithmetic,  that  two  captains  would  make 
half  as  much  trouble  as  one.  But  beyond  abolishing 
the  sentry  by  sinking  him  over  the  stern  one  night, 
and  beyond  selling  the  ship's  boats  and  life-preservers 
to  a  Scotch  man-o'-war,1  the  two  Chinee  could  strike 
no  better  a  chord.  What  brought  them  a  trifle  toge- 
1  A  Clyde-built  merchantman. 


246  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

ther  was  that  they  had  just  been  twice  summoned  to 
Pekin  concerning  them  missing  boats,  and  they  balked, 
afraid  their  ankles  would  be  cracked  with  a  club. 

"I  see  you,  I  smell-a  the  mouse,"  says  Gargonza. 
"  Why  I  must  clean-a  the  white  lead  of  four  year  from 
her  engine  ?  Why  put  in  the  coal  and  hire  the  sailor  ? 
I  think-a  to-morrow  they  run  with  the  ship  !  " 

"  St.  Peter ! "  says  I  to  meself,  wondering  how  I 
would  get  her  down  river  without  a  pilot.  Gargonza 
leaned  over  and  tapped  me  shoulder. 

"What  good  two  Chinee  like  them  captain?"  he 
whispers.  "No  good— eh?  But  she  would  make-a 
the  beautiful  South  Sea  trader !  Tin  Shai,  Mu  Kow, 
they  have  sent  many  to  water  the  seaweed.  In  the 
city  we  say :  i  There  is  always  the  room  at  the  top/ 
Good  !  On  the  sea :  i  There  is  always  the  room  at  the 
bottom ! ?  Me— you,  we  cannot  remember  what  will 
happen— eh  ?  You  have  pistol  ? n 

"  On  your  life  !  "  says  I,  with  a  slap  on  his  back  that 
made  him  cough.  He  stared  after  me,  doubtful  of 
what  I  had  made  of  him— which  was  a  yellow  dog. 

The  next  one  I  met  was  the  fellow  Mu  Kow,  who 
paid  his  respects  with  extra  dry,  which  he  made  me 
pour  down  on  the  top  of  me  beer  till  I  feared  the 
shifting  of  me  cargo. 

"That  Tin  Shai  one  baby,"  he  remarks,  trying 
me  first  with  one  swivel  eye  and  then  with  another. 
"  My  belong  number  one  captain.  Tin  Shai  plenty 
talkee,  plenty  silk,  plenty  jade— one  little  land-pirate. 
Some  day  he  makee  my  too  muchee  bobbely ;  then  sea- 
debil  come  catchee  !  You  my  good  brother.  My  pay 
you  one  week." 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  247 

I  took  this  double  wages  as  proper,  since  I  was  serv 
ing  two  masters.  But  I  measured  his  style  and  the 
sear  that  ripped  his  cheek ;  and  I  chalked  him  for  one 
that  would  stab  with  his  left  while  shaking  hands  with 
his  right.  Them  two  captains  and  the  Portegee,  I  says 
to  meself,  were  half  the  parts  for  a  hangman's  morn 
ing.  And  in  case  they  had  shipped  me  aboard  for  the 
Walking  Chinaman's  live  mutton,  I  hailed  a  wheelbar 
row  and  trundled  up-town  to  heel  meself  at  a  gun 
smith's. 

That  evening  Tin  Shai  and  Mu  Kow  turned  out  to 
a  big  mandarin,  that  arrived  with  hammering  gongs, 
with  a  rag-bag  of  coolies  carrying  signs,  and  with 
white  ponies  and  red  umbrellas.  The  mandarin  sat 
in  his  sedan-chair,  with  the  captains  kotowing.  They 
pulled  their  fingers  and  hoped  his  grandmother  was 
frisky,  and  wished  all  the  time  they  could  stick  a  knife 
in  his  ribs.  The  mandarin  was  reading  them  hot 
chapters  on  the  Chinee  hereafter,  as  appeared,  till  they 
thought  they  heard  the  rattle  of  chains.  He  wheeled 
off  blowing  curses,  with  the  gongs  beating  the  dog-trot 
retreat ;  and  Mu  Kow  took  me  aside,  his  eyes  sprung 
apart  like  an  alewife's. 

"Want-chee  go  choo-choo  down  river,  chop-chop, 
two  'clock,"  says  he,  locking  arms  with  me.  "  Can 
do?" 

"  Can  do  !  "  I  said,  seeing  a  vision  of  our  craft  with 
her  nose  fathom  deep  in  the  mud.  Gargonza  pulled 
at  me  sleeve. 

"  Four  year  I  wait-a  for  this !  "  he  says  in  me  ear. 

We  set  out  to  make  ready,  while  the  captains  loafed 
in  their  spandy  clothes.  They  sent  ashore  for  some 


248  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

Sing-Song  girls,  which,  with  the  fellers  that  brought 
them,  all  night  made  the  cabin  thick  with  cigarettes 
and  the  stringing  of  a  strum-strum.  Tin  Shai  was 
gassin'  and  gigglin'  equal  to  the  girls  themselves; 
but  Mu  Kow  sits  fanning  himself  in  a  corner,  squint 
ing  at  a  white  silk  Sing-Song  girl,  who  had  a  line 
of  gold  poppies  wandering  over  her  that  would  cost 
as  much  in  New  York  as  in  China  would  buy  the 
whole  girl.  She  was  no  dough-faced  doll,  like  most 
of  'em.  Ye  could  see  she  had  thoughts  skipping  about 
in  her  head ;  and,  for  a  Chinee  girl,  she  was  as  pretty 
as  comes.  She  see  me  at  the  window  and  marveled 
at  me  clothes,  and  the  girls  all  laughed  and  invited 
me  in.  But  I  would  n't  go,  for  the  way  they  shut 
their  throats  and  squawked  their  songs  like  pea-hens 
cut  into  me  ear. 

The  Sing-Song  crowd  was  still  aboard  when  I  raised 
the  ladder  to  clear  the  float ;  and  at  two  o'clock  I  took 
the  wheel,  and,  by  word  from  Mu  Kow,  started  ahead. 
The  Sing-Song  outfit  broke  for  the  gang-boards ;  but 
the  captains  kept  calling  "  Chop-chop ! "  and  I  sent 
her  ahead  full  speed  to  please  them.  There  were 
screams  and  a  fight  going  on,  but  I  could  n't  leave  the 
wheel,  for  I  saw  a  chance  to  slow  up  in  the  wake  of  a 
Frenchman  that  was  towing  down-stream  and  would 
show  me  the  way.  In'  a  while  Tin  Shai  and  Mu  Kow 
come  dragging  between  them  the  white  silk  Sing-Song 
girl,  that  was  crying  as  if  she  thought  to  be  boiled  j 
and  they  pulled  her  little  soft  arms  as  though  to  divide 
her,  each  shouting  that  he  was  the  one  that  had  held 
her  aboard  and  should  own  her  now.  The  sight  of  it 
got  me  straight  in  an  ugly  mood ;  for  it  was  plain  to 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  249 

me  then  they  had  kidnapped  her,  and  't  was  as  well 
for  7em  they  compromised  by  locking  her  np  in  the 
'pilot-house  and  giving  the  key  to  me.  The  little  thing 
stood  mourning  at  the  window,  like  a  white  silk  spook 
in  the  moonlight ;  and  I  begun  to  sour  a  bit  on  me  job, 
saying  that  Chinee  ought  to  keep  with  Chinee,  and 
men  with  men.  But  the  job  would  end  soon  enough, 
I  thought;  for  we  had  no  running  lights  and  our 
whistle  had  been  sold  for  junk,  and  we  had  not  a  scrap 
of  a  chart.  I  hugged  the  stern  of  the  Frenchman  till 
he  kept  hailing  and  dancing  on  his  poop ;  but,  by  luck, 
we  made  the  passage  down  the  river  without  fouling 
the  Frenchman  nor  the  bottom.  I  unlocked  the  pilot 
house  and  fixed  a  place  for  the  girl  to  sit  down. 

We  passed  Woo-sung  with  the  sun  up  twenty 
degrees,  and  the  Chinee  captains  were  peeping  an  anx 
ious  eye  at  the  line  of  forts.  They  turned  so  pale  at 
the  sudden  blast  of  a  gun  from  there  that  I  had  to 
laugh.  7T  was  the  fellow  ashore  a-firing  the  morning 
salute,  and  he  would  n't  believe  the  sun  was  up  till  it 
showed  from  behind  the  clouds.  The  Yang-tze 
stretched  before  us,  bigger  than  the  Mississippi  and 
twice  as  dirty,  with  its  low  shores  lying  blank  for 
miles.  Now  I  saw  the  white  bodies  of  the  American 
fleet,  as  smooth  as  swans,  with  their  bright  work  daz 
zling  in  the  sun,  and  Old  Glory  swung  out  bright  to 
the  breeze— the  handsomest  that  floats.  I  saw  their 
guns  laid  aft,  as  trim  as  feathers  on  a  gull ;  and  when 
I  looked  down  on  the  bath-tub  I  was  cruising  in,  and 
on  her  little  old  Armstrongs  aiming  at  all  points  of 
the  card  and  rusting  red  in  ten  different  ranges,  I 
swore  at  meself  for  shame  of  me  Chinee  job.  When 


250  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

I  tried  to  dip  my  dragon  flag  I  found  it  was  nailed  to 
the  mast,  so  that  the  watch  on  the  Heron  was  howling 
in  glee,  and  I  run  up  and  threw  down  the  rag  in  strips, 
while  the  Chinee  captains  smoked  their  pipes  and  dis 
cussed  me  gumption. 

"  Git  on  to  the  Chinee  without  a  pigtail— and  his 
wife  in  the  glass  case  !  "  yells  Peter  Bynes,  louder  than 
the  regulations,  from  the  deck  of  the  Valley  Forge. 

We  left  the  fleet  hull  down  up  river,  and  the  heat 
closed  in  on  us  more  and  more,  like  the  walls  of  a 
steam-chest,  till  noon  brought  Gargonza  up  from  the 
engines  as  pale  as  a  pineapple.  I  tripped  the  anchor 
and  fell  into  a  hot  doze,  with  a  little  white  Chinee  girl 
fading  before  me  framed  in  a  window. 

And  I  was  but  pounding  me  ear  comfortable  when 
I  had  to  rush  up  to  see  what  was  causing  the  racket 
on  deck.  I  met  the  crew  all  scattering  for  cover ;  and 
here  was  Tin  Shai  and  Mu  Kow  rampaging  with  drawn 
revolvers.  Tin  Shai  had  a-hold  of  the  Sing-Song  girl, 
hiding  behind  her  and  too  scared  to  remember  his  own 
weapon,  while  Mu  Kow  was  dashing  in  circles,  trying 
to  drop  him  without  hurting  the  girl.  She  was 
screaming  in  hysterics,  and  such  an  uncanny  sight  as 
this  wall-eyed  rascal  raging  for  murder  I  never  see 
outside  of  a  waxworks.  When  they  heard  me  they 
backed  away,  and  the  Sing-Song  made  a  plunge  for 
below,  never  stopping  till  she  discovered  my  room  and 
hid  under  my  bunk,  gold  poppies  and  all.  The  next 
second  the  captains  were  talking  polite  as  potato-bugs, 
and  they  smiled  and  said  they  had  given  the  girl  to 
me,  for  which  I  did  n't  say  thanks.  But  I  went  down 
and  hauled  her  out  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  all  trem- 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  251 

bling  and  jingling  with  bracelets ;  and  then  I  stroked 
her  till  I  had  her  tamed.  She  was  a  fresh  little  piece, 
cleaner  for  having  cried  off  the  red  lead  and  rice- 
powder.  After  she  had  stared  a  long  time  at  me  she 
seemed  to  give  me  a  pretty  high  mark,  for  she  sud 
denly  turned  to  and  squared  up  me  bunk  so  well  that 
I  could  n't  stay  out  of  it.  Gargonza  found  her  on 
guard  at  me  door  while  I  tackled  me  nap  again.  He 
wanted  to  get  gay  with  her ;  but  she  hissed  like  a  she 
kitten,  and  I  give  him  a  laugh.  I  asked  him  where  in 
the  Pea-Soup  Sea  this  cruise  was  laid  to,  and  he  says 
we  had  come  to  collect  the  junk  tax  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Yang-tze-kiang. 

When  I  waked,  the  Sing-Song  was  doing  her  hair  in 
front  of  me  glass  in  a  black  braid  as  thick  as  a  haw 
ser.  And  the  jade  and  gold  pins  and  ruby  rosettes  she 
had  on  the  table  would  have  put  shame  to  a  pawnshop. 
I  hunted  up  a  brush  for  her,  and  from  that  time  on 
she  followed  me  round  like  a  pet  doe,  grabbing  me 
sleeve  if  any  one  looked  at  her  twice ;  and  she  would 
pick  all  the  threads  off  me  coat,  and  would  rub  me 
boots  with  a  rag  till  I  felt  uneasy  most  of  the  time. 
The  captains  were  worrying  to  be  under  way,  and  the 
crew  were  watching  down  river,  gesticulating  when 
ever  they  saw  a  junk.  A  big  fellow  bound  in  from 
Formosa,  with  forty  in  the  crew,  tacked  by  under  our 
nose,  and  I  could  n't  see  why,  if  we  were  tax-collecting, 
we  let  this  one  go.  I  took  the  wheel  and  we  made 
toward  the  mouth,  me  expecting  each  moment  to  end 
the  cruise  with  scarring  the  river-bed,  for  the  Yang-tze 
kiang  is  a  big  drain  that  does  n't  remember  its  way 
overnight.  As  we  made  the  delta— a  mirage  of  an 


252  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

island  just  above  water  so  far  from  the  shores  of  the 
stream  that  you  needed  a  glass— we  sighted  a  middle- 
sized  junk.  By  direction  I  kept  the  lubber's  line  dead 
on  her  •  and  as  she  would  n't  pretend  to  hear  when 
Mu  Kow  passed  her  word  to  lay  to,  I  went  ahead  and 
lanced  her  in  the  wing  with  me  bowsprit. 

The  people  of  the  junk  no  sooner  saw  Mu  Kow 
boarding  him  with  two  pistols  and  a  swarm  of  coolies 
than  they  crowded  into  a  sampan  and  sculled  for  their 
lives.  They  left  an  old  woman  dealing  out  rice  in  the 
galley  over  the  stern  j  and  she  must  have  been  deaf, 
for  she  did  n't  notice.  The  next  minute  I  see  Mu  Kow 
catch  her  by  the  foot  and  trip  her  overboard,  with  an 
iron  pot  tight  in  her  hand.  She  went  to  the  bottom 
like  lead,  with  a  look  of  astonishment  on  her  face ; 
but  she  never  let  go  of  the  iron  pot.  I  gasped.  The 
Sing-Song  clutched  me  and  begun  to  cry. 

"  Collect-a  the  tax !  "  grins  Gargonza.  "  See  the 
many  case  of  the.  opium !  Say,  our  share  will  be 
large.  But  better  the  South  Sea,  eh  ? " 

I  give  him  a  shove. 

"  Ye  murdering  son  of  a  vampire  !  "  I  yelled  to  Mu 
Kow.  "  The  next  one  ye  heave  over,  ye  '11  keep  his 
company ! " 

I  come  down  from  the  bridge  and  went  to  me  room 
to  hide  me  rage.  So  I  was  piloting  a  pirate  craft, 
was  I?  The  Sing-Song  shuddered  so  that  I  thought 
she  would  shake  out  her  teeth.  So  I  shut  me  mouth 
and  took  to  calming  her,  with  her  tears  all  mixed  with 
her  Chinee  language.  Pretty  soon  she  dried  her  eyes 
and  curled  up  alongside  of  me,  and  then  we  held  a  long 
palaver,  each  of  us  telling  what  we  ought  to  do,  and 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  253 

neither  one  understanding  the  other.  She  touched 
the  revolver  in  me  pocket  and  motioned  at  the  door ; 
I  nodded  and  said  to  meself  I  needed  small  provoca 
tion.  I  would  leave  at  the  first  opportunity,  getting 
the  girl  to  some  safe  place ;  and  I  would  plant  com 
mas  in  the  Chinaman  that  blocked  me.  The  crew  was 
working  fast  at  the  loot  in  the  junk,  and  Gargonza  was 
passing  us  with  little  packages.  They  were  piling  like 
ones  outside  me  room,  and  at  dusk  Tin  Shai  looked 
in  as  far  as  his  nose  to  explain. 

"  That  belong  your  share,"  says  he,  pointing,  and 
trying  to  seem  like  a  matter  of  course. 

"  Ye  heathen  peacock ! "  I  yelled,  bowling  the  bot 
tom  of  a  chair  at  him. 

He  disappeared  like  a  bubble ;  and  then  I  see  the 
junk  float  by  the  side,  filling  with  water.  I  took  a 
look  at  the  river.  It  was  ebbing  rapidly,  but  we  were 
stock-still.  We  had  drifted  aimless  ever  since  I  left 
the  bridge,  and  the  sun  had  gone  down,  leaving  us 
bosomed  on  a  shoal. 

I  see  no  sign  of  the  two  captains ;  but  they  never 
sent  better  chow  than  that  night.  The  Sing-Song 
would  sit  on  a  stool  behind  me,  no  matter  what  I  said ; 
for  she  could  n't  handle  the  Pidgin  lingo ;  and  she 
would  smile  and  then  whimper  when  I  scolded  her 
stupidity.  Ravenous  though  she  was,  she  would  wait, 
Chinee  fashion,  till  I  pushed  her  each  mouthful ;  and 
she  patted  me  sleeve  and  did  n't  want  me  to  get  angry. 
I  says  to  meself  there  was  many  a  brunette  at  home 
that  would  give  the  tip  of  her  tongue  for  the  color  of 
such  eyes.  Then  she  blinked  and  fell  asleep,  crumpled 
on  the  floor  with  her  head  against  me  knee.  Along 


254  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

come  Gargonza,  feeling  the  first  prop  of  his  liquor,  and 
he  sent  a  leer  at  the  little  heap  that  gave  fidgets  to 
the  toe  of  me  boot. 

"  Ah,  what  for  do  we  linger?77  says  he  to  me,  point 
ing  out  of  the  door.  "  The  beautiful  plum  hang  ripe 
on  the  bough,  and  the  South  Sea  call  like  the  music ! 
Say,  there  are  many  wives  down  there— their  eyes  do 
not  slide  like  these.  Tin  Shai,  Mu  Kow,  they  will 
take-a  the  cold  bath— eh?  The  ship  will  turn  blue; 
her  name  will  be  La  Paloma—ihQ  dove,  the  fat  dove. 
The  crew  is  raw— yes;  but  me— you,  we  can  boil-a 
them— eh  ?  This  is  the  plain  Pidgin— I  always  speak-a 
the  honest— I  am  very  brave ;  but  I  cannot  tell-a  the 
lie.  What  will  you  do  ? " 

I  looked  in  the  ball  of  his  eye. 

"  Ye  can  take  your  dirty  tricks,77  says  I,  "  and  go  to 
a  hot  hereafter.77 

"  By  God,'7  says  he,  scarlet  as  a  bull-rag,  "  not  like-a 
the  you  will  me  interfere !  I  wait-a  four  year  to  be 
stop  by  the  sailor  that  make-a  the  skulk  from  his  ship  ? 
Huh  !  I  perform  my  own  hook.  I  make-a  the  captain 
—you  make-a  the  sea-cook ! 77 

I  inspected  him  close,  and  I  saw  he  was  two  parts 
bluff  and  one  part  water,  and  had  rings  in  his  ears. 

"  How  711  ye  get  her  out  of  the  mud  ? 77  says  I. 

He  went  up  to  see  what  I  meant.  When  he  returned 
he  wanted  me  to  drink  with  him,  saying  we  gentlemen 
should  not  lose  our  tempers ;  and  how  could  I  leave 
the  ship,  without  a  small  boat,  or  even  a  hen-coop  ? 
There  was  n7t  a  stick  to  float  a  dog. 

"  But  never  again  the  beautiful  chance  ! 77  he  whines, 
beginning  to  drift  in  his  cups.  "Listen!  They 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  255 

smoke-a  the  opium.  Tin  Shai,  Mu  Kow,  they  buy-a 
the  share  of  the  coolie  for  silver— eh  ?  Now  the  cap 
tain  deal-a  the  fan-tan— they  win  all  the  silver  back  to 
themself !  Santa  Maria !  "  says  he ;  "  they  are  wise, 
but  they  are  not  brave.  And  you— you  have  not  the 
ambition." 

The  smoke  rose  out  of  the  hold,  and  the  coppery 
clink  of  cash.  I  stared  through  me  port  at  the  rising 
moon,  perplexing  about  to-morrow  j  and  a  notion  of 
something  ill-fated  come  clouding  around;  but  I 
could  n't  see  why.  I  took  the  Sing-Song,  and  we  made 
a  tour  of  the  deepest  parts,  now  all  forsaken  except 
the  main  hold,  where  the  fan-tan  game  was  on.  Never 
a  plank  had  been  started  by  our  pressure  on  the  shoal ; 
for  all  the  water  I  found  was  mossy  bilge.  The  Sing- 
Song  took  cue  of  all  me  moves,  doing  an  imitation  of 
me.  She  poked  in  the  piles  of  dunnage  faster  than 
meself ;  and  she  struck  three  battered  life-buoys,  which 
on  general  principles  we  took  to  me  room  and  made 
good  with  seizings  of  rope-yarn.  The  ship's  compart 
ments  hurt  your  nose  worse  than  the  alleys  of  old 
Shanghai,  and  the  air  of  the  berth-deck  seemed  like 
heaven  again.  I  was  put  to  it  to  pass  the  time  j  for 
I  looked  ahead  to  no  sleep  on  a  pirate  ship.  I  com 
menced  to  sing,  trying  to  teach  the  girl  the  tune  of 

Me  pigtail  is  two  inches  long ! 

—which  was  a  favorite  aboard  the  Valley  Forge.  But 
the  girl  could  no  more  keep  a  tune  than  walk  a  tight 
rope,  though  she  strove  till  she  brought  the  tears. 
"Ye  're  a  daisy,"  says  I,  "but  ye  can't  throw  your 
voice."  I  paced  in  the  moonlight,  calculating  on  the 


256  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

tide.  We  had  struck  at  around  six  in  the  evening, 
leaving  some  three  hours  of  the  ebb.  At  three  or  four 
hours  of  the  flood  we  might  hope  to  drift  off,  and  per 
haps  we  would  fall  in  with  some  honest  craft.  Now 
there  was  nothing  in  sight  but  a  dim  lighthouse,  and 
't  was  that  silent  that  somehow  it  give  me  a  touch  of 
the  nerves.  The  Sing-Song  pulled  out  a  rubber  ball 
and  went  bouncing  it  on  deck,  pirouetting  on  her  heels 
between  the  bounces.  I  laughed  at  her  little  brown 
legs,  and  she  begun  doing  funny.  She  give  a  repro 
duction  of  a  Shanghai  rooster  that  would  have  killed 
the  reputation  of  me  friend  Jimmy  Snort.  It  brought 
up  Gargonza,  loaded  to  the  guards. 

"  Sh ! "  says  he,  pointing  down  the  main  hatch. 
"  One  by  one  they  will  sleep  on  their  pipe.  Three 
o'clock  I  am  full  control !  Sh  !  Let  not  the  bat  out 
of  the  keg,  eh  ?" 

I  blew  me  cigar  in  his  face,  with  the  Sing-Song 
peering  at  him  from  under  me  elbow.  I  wandered 
back  and  set  in  me  chair,  lighting  cigar  after  cigar  to 
keep  me  awake.  The  Sing-Song  showed  me  her  rings. 
There  was  a  diamond  set  in  jade,  which  she  would  n't 
let  move  from  its  finger,  however  I  urged  her.  When 
I  pulled  it  a  bit  to  see  what  she  would  do,  she  started 
to  blubber.  She  made  signs  which  I  understood  that 
some  devil  would  get  her  if  she  once  let  it  slide  from 
her  hand.  So  I  put  them  all  back,  and  she  went 
purring  and  drowsing  near  by,  with  a  big  blotch  of 
oil  on  her  sleeve.  I  set  playing  with  the  end  of  her 
braid,  and  heard  nothing  but  the  clink  of  coin,  which 
seemed  further  and  further  away. 

I  must  have  dozed  off  with  a  Manila  smoking  in  me 


A  YARN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  257 

teeth,  for  I  come  to  by  and  by  with  a  start.  The 
candle  was  burnt  to  a  naked  bit  of  wick,  and  nickering 
in  its  death-struggle.  The  moon  was  shining  bright 
aslant  through  me  port,  and  the  Sing-Song  flat  in  her 
slumbers.  I  heard  a  lapping  of  waves,  as  if  a  wind 
had  sprung  up ;  and  behind  me  a  dropping  of  water : 
spot,  spot,  spot !  It  was  water  leaking  through  the  hole 
I  had  smashed  in  me  port  glass,  and  falling  from  the 
sill  to  a  puddle  in  me  bunk.  When  I  jumped  up  me 
eye  fell  on  a  dead  level  with  the  Yang-tze  River. 

"  She  7s  sinking,"  says  I. 

She  was  six  feet  deeper  in  the  water  than  her  dan 
ger-line,  and  the  spot,  spot!  coming  faster.  There 
were  seventy  of  us  aboard  the  Walking  Chinaman,  and 
three  life-buoys.  I  took  off  me  shoes,  then  scanned 
fore  and  aft  from  me  door.  There  was  no  sign  and 
no  sound.  The  lamps  burnt  even  in  a  mist  of  stale 
smoke  from  opium,  and  the  deck  was  dry  as  a  bone. 
With  a  moldy  blanket  I  stopped  the  hole  in  the  port ; 
then  I  pressed  a  hand  on  the  Sing-Song's  forehead  till 
she  waked  natural  and  caught  me  commands.  We 
crept  into  the  passageway,  with  her  silk  sleeves  seem 
ing  to  sing  against  her  sides  as  loud  as  steam.  The 
spar-deck  was  like  a  churchyard,  all  blue  moonlight 
and  black  shadows;  and  there  was  a  fretting  of  the 
breeze  in  fits  and  starts,  no  one  way  twice.  I  reckoned 
it  about  twenty-four  hours  since  we  had  cast  off  at 
Shanghai,  and  now  the  tide  was  within  an  hour  of 
high  j  but  we  had  not  budged  an  inch  off  the  shoal. 
And  what  bamboozled  me  complete  was  to  see  a  lan 
tern  down  in  the  engine-room,  burning  in  the  crank 
shaft  well.  The  ship  laid  as  trim  as  if  in  dock,  and 

17 


258  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

she  was  sinking  without  a  drop  of  water  in  her. 
Already  the  port  of  me  room  was  hidden  below  the 
surface. 

I  let  down  the  lead.  First  it  showed  by  the  mark 
two  fathoms;  then,  slow  but  taut,  it  commenced  to 
pay  out  more.  And  it  would  have  kept  on  forever, 
for  I  knew  what  was  up.  We  had  run  on  to  one  of 
the  Yang-tze  quicksands  such  as  I  had  heard  of.  We 
had  settled  with  the  ebb  till  the  sand  had  a  grip  like 
an  octopus  and  held  us  while  the  tide  rose.  Pretty 
soon  the  water  would  flow  over  our  sides  and  down 
through  the  hatches,  and  then  we  would  slump  like  a 
thousand  tons  in  a  slough. 

The  Sing-Song  kept  pulling  and  pointing  at  the 
water,  which  was  gurgling  through  the  scuppers  and 
backing  up  fore  and  aft  in  the  gutters.  She  turned 
pale ;  but  she  remembered  and  did  n't  say  anything, 
and  I  liked  her  for  that.  I  says  to  meself,  there  was 
no  knowing  what  might  part  us  two  in  the  next  few 
hours :  so,  despite  her  objections,  I  made  her  stow  half 
the  money  I  had,  to  stead  her  if  she  got  ashore  with 
out  me ;  and  she  tried  to  make  me  take  some  rings  in 
exchange.  Then  I  strung  the  revolvers  around  me 
neck.  There  was  no  stir  from  the  crew  •  but  a  damp 
stench  of  opium  and  Chinamen  rose  out  of  the  hold, 
and  a  glimmer  along  the  floor  showed  pairs  of  sleep 
ing  legs.  The  water  was  high  on  our  ankles  and, 
dribbling  now  down  the  hatch ;  and  a  coolie  got  up 
and  slipped  in  the  wet,  and  voices  began  asking  ques 
tions.  Then  we  ran  for  the  bow  with  our  life-buoys. 
I  grabbed  the  girl  and  jumped  into  the  sea ;  she  took 
a  sharp  breath,  but  stayed  game,  and  I  rigged  her  into 


A  YARN  OF   THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  259 

a  buoy  before  she  knew  it,  and  we  floated  in  safety. 
The  buoys  were  lashed  in  a  triangle  abreast  of  the  ship, 
and  I  held  to  a  line  from  the  anchor-davits.  I  would 
not  cast  adrift  in  this  sea  of  mud  till  I  must ;  and  the 
extra  buoy  might  save  two  or  three  of  the  rascals  be 
low,  but  which  ones  I  had  n't  yet  thought  to  decide. 

There  come  a  yell,  and  a  coolie  pounded  up  the  lad 
der,  and  dashed  forward  maudlin  with  fear,  and  ham 
mered  at  the  cabin  doors.  He  must  have  expected 
the  captains  to  bale  out  the  hold  with  their  hats,  for 
the  water  had  leaped  clear  of  the  hatch-coaming  and 
was  roaring  down  in  a  deluge.  It  raised  a  steam  of 
shrieks  as  though  it  had  struck  hot  iron ;  and  it  ought 
to  have  given  a  turn  to  those  that  laid  in  a  stupor 
below,  thinking  that  drowning  was  part  of  an  opium 
dream.  You  could  hear  the  perpendicular  iron  ladder 
rattle  with  feet,  though  the  moon  still  shone  on  a  life 
less  deck ;  for  the  coolie  that  first  appeared  had  dove 
beneath  the  galley  stove  as  the  only  dry  place  in  the 
world.  Then  they  begun  galloping  up  from  the  hold, 
howling,  with  their  faces  purple  in  the  light— one,  two, 
then  twenty  in  a  string,  hauling  themselves  over  the 
pouring  brim  like  devil-fish.  They  saw  it  had  n't  done 
any  good  to  get  up  there.  They  saw  it  half  spent  with 
the  struggle  it  cost,  and  they  all  went  raving  crazy. 

I  never  hear  such  yells  since  the  steam-pipe  burst 
on  the  old  S'wanee  ;  and  yet  when  I  looked  off  over  the 
deserted  waters,  and  see  no  ship  and  no  light  and  no 
land,— nothing  but  the  river  glistening  in  the  silent 
moon  for  miles  and  miles,— the  nose  seemed  but  tri 
fling  small.  A  score  of  them  were  fighting  like  fiends 
for  a  salt-box  that  would  n't  float  one.  A  horde  of 


260  UNDER  THE  JACK-STAFF 

them  screamed  and  scratched  on  the  deck  below  like 
the  bilge-rats  that  scurried  among  their  feet.  I  heard 
a  voice  call :  "  Wake-a  me  !  Santa  Maria,  I  cannot 
dream-a  no  more  !  "  and  the  rest  in  another  lingo.  I 
shouted  back,  but  I  don't  know  what.  The  Sing-Song 
pointed  to  Tin  Shai  running  up  the  main  ratlines, 
chased  by  two  of  his  personal  staff.  He  clung  to  the 
top,  with  a  foot  on  the  fore-and-aft  stay ;  and  when 
the  other  two  grappled  to  see  which  should  pass  the 
part  where  the  ratlines  narrow  to  nothing,  Tin  Shai 
kicked  one  of  his  servants  into  the  air.  The  other  one 
bawled  out  in  joy,  and  suddenly  looked  in  the  muzzle 
of  Tin  Shai's  revolver.  He  turned  to  back  down  ;  but 
the  water  was  rising  beneath  him,  and  he  stopped  and 
looked  up  again  into  the  barrel,  and  saw  a  flash.  Then 
his  head  lolled  to  one  side  and  his  fingers  loosened,  and 
he  scraped  down  along  the  shrouds  like  an  empty  shirt. 
"  Wake-a  me  !  "  yells  the  voice  from  below,  wandering 
far  astern.  We  see  Mu  Kow  at  the  spider-band  of  the 
foremast,  sawing  away  at  the  rotten  ropes.  The  mob 
beneath  him  had  pulled  the  salt-box  to  bits,  and  now 
they  all  swarmed  after  him  over  the  shrouds.  They 
climbed  by  the  ratlines  and  they  climbed  on  each  other, 
snarling  and  tearing,  while  Mu  Kow  sawed.  Half-way 
to  the  top,  and  the  shrouds  give  way  to  his  knife ;  and 
they  fell  in  a  howling  heap  on  the  iron  winch,  that  was 
covered  with  three  feet  of  water.  A  few  of  them 
flopped  for  a  moment  like  stranded  fish,  but  the  river 
quenched  their  groans.  The  stillness  came  down  like 
the  firing  of  a  siege-gun.  All  that  the  Sing-Song  and 
me  could  see  of  the  Walking  Chinaman  was  Tin  Shai 
and  Mu  Kow,  treed  like  cougars,  at  the  tops  of  two 
masts  that  shone  a  short  way  out  of  the  water. 


A  YAEN  OF  THE  PEA-SOUP  SEA  261 

The  two  blackguards  clung  cursing  across  at  each 
other  with  revolvers  in  their  hands.  My  line  had 
pulled  till  it  brought  me  floating  midway  off  from  the 
sinking  spars.  Either  one  of  the  two  that  saw  me 
starting  to  save  the  other  was  ready  now  to  shoot  at 
us  all  j  and  their  two  foul  lives  were  not  worth  chances 
to  me.  But  I  could  not  cast  off  and  leave  them,  as  the 
Sing-Song  would  have  me  do.  I  leveled  me  revolver  and 
called  them  to  throw  down  theirs ;  but  neither  would 
stir  till  the  other  did  first.  And  we  waited  in  a  dead 
lock,  with  the  tide  at  their  waists  and  the  end  approach 
ing,  when  there  would  be  nothing  left  of  the  mastheads 
and  they  could  n't  shin  up  further.  My  arms  grew  so 
fagged  and  shaking  that  I  should  n't  have  hit  a  whale  • 
and  the  sweat  rolled  off  their  brows  like  rain.  They 
rested  their  chins  on  the  trucks,  scowling  with  gaping 
mouths,  as  if  they  were  pinned  to  the  spars  by  swords 
through  their  bowels.  And  the  Sing-Song  took  to 
deriding  them. 

"  JJoo-uh-chaah !  Koo-nh-ch&ah  !  "  she  sang  at  them, 
or  sounds  like  that. 

Then  she  screamed  at  the  sound  of  their  guns,  and 
they  were  firing  so  fast  I  could  n't  see.  In  the  midst 
of  it  Tin  Shai  gave  a  howl  and  bit  a  piece  out  of  the 
truck,  with  a  trickle  of  red  on  his  neck.  His  revolver 
exploded  as  his  head  sunk  from  sight.  I  felt  a  sharp 
cut  in  me  head  and  the  blood  rushing  up  from  me  toes. 
Mu  Kow  reached  out  his  empty  hands  in  prayer. 

"  Can  do  ?     Can  do  ? "  he  cries  to  us. 

But  the  moon  went  dancing  so  that  I  was  paralyzed ; 
and  the  Sing-Song  jerked  the  bowline  from  under  me 
arm.  We  floated  away  in  the  current,  and  I  lurched 
and  buried  me  guns  to  the  breech.  When  I  rolled 


262  UNDER   THE  JACK-STAFF 

back  again  I  thought  I  saw  Mu  Kow's  head  chasing 
on  top  of  the  water  to  swallow  us  j  but  it  was  the  moon 
turned  black. 

She  kept  yanking  me  face  out  of  the  water,  and  talk 
ing  with  her  lips  to  me  ear.  Everything  was  gray  as 
clay,  except  a  red  stain  on  the  sky-line.  I  blew  out  a 
throatful  of  the  dirty  stream.  "  Wake  me  !  "  says  I, 
with  me  neck  feeling  the  size  of  a  finger.  Then  the 
sun  was  beating  down  on  me  brain,  and  she  all  the 
time  sprinkling  me  and  fussing  with  something  that 
bound  me  head.  She  dug  her  nails  in  me  jowl  and  made 
me  look  up  river.  I  saw  a  swift  white  swan,  with  a 
yellow  bill  and  a  hundred-foot  bonnet-string  trailing 
aslant  of  her ;  and  me  head  toppled  over  on  something 
heaving  and  soft.  "  Daisy,"  says  I,  "  but  can't  throw 
her  voice !  "  Then  I  heard  eight  strokes  of  a  silvery 
bell,  and  the  shrill  of  a  boatswain's  whistle.  Some 
body  holds  me  up  to  the  bowl  of  a  United  States  spoon. 
It  was  Jimmy  Snort,  the  apothecary's  boy. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  we  put  the  little  Sing-Song  aboard 
of  the  North  Dutch  Mail  about  three  hours  ago.  The 
cursed  little  spitfire  scratched  me  face,  and  had  to  be 
taken  from  ye  by  force." 

I  felt  in  me  pocket.  Every  dollar  I  had  given  hei 
was  back  in  its  place ;  and  on  me  finger  was  the  jade 
diamond  ring. 

"  How  7s  your  morals  ?  "  grins  Jimmy  Snort. 

"  No  worse !  n  says  I,  lifting  off  the  scruff  of  his 
neck.  "And  me  respect  for  the  kind  of  sex  which 
you  ain't,"  I  says,.  "  has  risen  to  par,  from  the  end  of 
the  land  to  the  end  of  the  sea." 


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